


If You Are Going Through Hel…. It is Best to Pack a Lunch

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is Loki, if Nora Likes it or not.  Of course, for that matter, Nora is Nora, if Loki likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Such A Sad and Sorry Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lasadh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasadh/gifts).



_“I am going home.”_

_Ermmmm, Mistress Nora, if you don’t agree to guard the prince then we will be taking him back with us.” Sif spoke quickly, clearly thinking Nora was as crazy as Loki and wanting this over with._

_“Yes, fantastic. Have his daddy lock him in his room and take all of his toys away until he learns to be a good boy.”_

_“Mistress Nora, he won’t be going to Asgard. He will be sent to the Isle of Silence.”_

_Loki fell silent, and looked afraid._

 

Nora found herself just staring at Loki.   The God of Being a Giant Brat was sitting cross-legged on the not-as-clean-as-could-be linoleum floor, his back against the faux-wood cabinet door.  Inside the cabinet was probably extra garbage bags and maybe some extra dish soap. 

She tried to reconcile a world where people had to wash their dishes and take out their garbage with a world where gods warred for ownership of an entire planet and found she couldn’t. She was also feeling a bit dizzy again.

Loki should have looked ridiculous in the too small scrubs that bared his long, perfectly toned calves, and just the smallest amount of skin at his waist. Nora could see where a bit of dark hair swirled around his navel and really wished she hadn’t.

His black hair was like the cartoon of an angry cloud over and around his head, and he sneered at his unwelcome visitors. Somehow he was able to look down on them and up at them at the same time.  She had a feeling it was a look he had been able to practice many times. 

But Nora had seen the fear that flickered in his eyes and in the white, thin set of his mouth. There and then gone again, but she had seen it, even if it seemed the others hadn’t.  The lead actor in her nightmares for months was afraid of something.  Some place.  A place she could send him to.

It should be an empowering feeling, but it wasn’t. Nora wasn’t feeling much of anything other than exhaustion. 

Then she noticed that no one had said or done anything for minutes. They were all just waiting for her.  Four gods – wait, were the other four gods?  She had no idea.  But they were all huge.  These five giant, powerful beings were just waiting for her to do something.

“I really am going to throw up now.” She said, and then found herself bending over the garbage can.  She hadn’t eaten much in the last two days, so it was mostly painful retching.  Loki sprang up, but she put up a hand to block him, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Just trying to help, treasure.”

The Warriors Three (and Nora suddenly felt like she was back in college playing Warcraft with her ex) all stepped to block him.

“One of you could get her a drink of water, you know. Heroes….”  Loki sneered.

It took the beardy one a few seconds to figure out how to work the sink. Nora took a mouthful of tepid water and spat it into the garbage and then wandered into the living room to sit down.  Watching the others figure out how to maneuver after her while still figuring out how to keep Loki surrounded would have been hilarious if she had the energy to laugh.

When they finally got situated they still all just stood there, waiting for her.

Finally Nora found herself asking, “So, what is the Isle of Silence?”

They all looked at each other, silent urging someone else to speak. When Sif finally opened her mouth, Loki raised a hand.

“No, allow me, I haven’t been able to speak in such a long time, and if I end up on the Isle, well, it will be even longer, won’t it?”

“I am sure Mistress Nora has no desire to hear your voice any more than she must, snake.” Beardy guy snarled at him.

“I really don’t care. Let him.  Whatever.”  Nora gestured towards Loki.  She was completely numb at this point.  He didn’t even scare her at the moment.  She just wanted to go home and go to bed for the rest of her life.  Loki crouched in front of her.

“Well, treasure-“

“Don’t call me that. Seriously.”

He sneered at her, “Now you know I am really going to want to…. But very well, Nora. The Isle of Silence is a  … pardon, but I am trying to think of a way to put it that might be understandable to such as you.”

“Huh.” Nora’s foot lashed out, catching him off guard, and knocking him over.  She stood over him, “Well, since as a human I am not smart enough to understand something so complex I definitely can’t understand why you shouldn’t go there.  Have fun, you pasty-faced, snooty, piece of shit.  Please do send me a postcard.”

She turned to the door, lightheaded as hell and hoping to make a dignified exit. As dignified as someone who had just tossed her cookies in a garbage can while surrounded by legendary beings could manage.

Loki grabbed her ankle, and before the other could stop him he was kneeling in front of her.

“Please, Nora.”

After a quiet so intense it had a physical presence, Nora spoke, “And there was silence in heaven for a space of about a half hour.”

Loki looked confused, “What?”

“From the bible.”

“Oh, yes, Revelations.”

“You read it?”

“Eddie didn’t have much of a social life. Other than you.”

“I-“ She started towards the door again.

“Nora, please. The Isle of Silence is all that is dreadful and foul.  And certainly what I am deserving of for my crimes.  Not just on Midgard, but throughout the Nine Realms.  I have been a ravening beast, a monster, in ways that someone with your heart could not imagine nor understand.  Just as someone of your goodness could not understand the Isle of Silence.  It is … Evil for the evil.”

“So why shouldn’t I let them take you there?”

“No reason, except it is not in you to do such a thing. We don’t get dicks fired, remember?  We make them miserable, torment them, but we don’t get them fired.  Well the Isle of Silence is me being fired from reality.  Torment me, Nora, make me miserable, but _you_ do it.”

Nora looked at Loki, kneeling to her, begging her for his… not his freedom, but for something else. She wasn’t sure what exactly, but she knew in her heart that if he wanted something from her she should deny it to him.  But to condemn him?  She had been made his judge, and now she had to decide if she would be his executioner or his jailer.

What had she done to deserve this?

Oh, that’s right, she had gone to work this morning.

“You are a bit worse than a dick. I need time to think.”  And to cry.  And to get her head to stop spinning.  It was all too much.  Too unreal.

Loki quickly wiped the flash of triumph off his face. But she saw it anyway and it was almost enough to make her choice for her.

“Mistress-“ Lady Sif started to say something, and Nora’s temper snapped.

“Listen, I think it is weird enough that his AllDaddy sent the woman who hatefucks him sometimes to do this-“

Sif started in horror, “How? Did he tell you-“

“No, but you just did.” Loki barked a laugh and then covered his mouth in an exaggerated gesture, “Anyway, you interstellar …. Interfering…. Why don’t you all just stay at home?”  She shouted, “I thought Asgard was supposed to be so awesome, so why don’t you all just stay there?  I am leaving, and I am thinking, and you are giving me as much time as I want and don’t you dare say anything.  You all live thousands of years, so fuck you all for messing with what little time I have.”

Nora wondered if she was even making any sense. She didn’t care.  And she left.

As she passed Mr. Choe’s, he leaned out of his door to ask if Eddie was ok as Sif chased her down the hall, “You should hold on to this, Mistress,” the giant warrior said, handing Nora the controller for Loki’s “God-be-good” collar.

Mr. Choe’s voice was shaking, as he took in Sif’s leather armour and deferential attitude, “Wait. _She’s_ the Mistress?  Oh man, my heart isn’t strong enough anymore for what is going on in my mind….I don’t suppose the blonde is around, too?”

 

 

Loki’s awkwardness at waiting in Eddie’s miserable abode with Sif and the Warriors Three was tempered by his pleasure at being himself again. He was desperate to be alone with himself for a number of reasons.  Well, mainly one.  It had been far too long since he had been with his favorite lover. 

“So, I have Netflix, if someone could manage a beer run.” He suggested.  Four sets of eyes glared at him.

Forty-eight hours later found them all sprawled around Eddie’s still quite messy living room, well into the third season of Friends. Empty pizza boxes vied with Thai food containers and Styrofoam clamshells smeared with BBQ sauce for table space.  If someone was counting (and Loki always was) there were five hundred and ninety-seven empty bottles of Guinness, Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA, and his new favorite, Revolution Anti-hero.  Additionally there was a half-empty case of aged Jamaican rum and an entirely empty one of Redbreast 12 Year.

Loki sipped a bit of the last from the only unbroken glass in the apartment. Nora was right, of course, it was better than the 15 year. 

Sif and Fandral were engaged in a debate that was going from spirited to heated. They were standing, almost nose to nose, Sif’s hand on her hilt, Fandral’s eyes narrowed, his lip curled back.

Loki may have had something to do with it, but he had only asked a simple question. A matter of their opinions on a particular subject.

Finally Hogun the Silent spoke for the first time since they had arrived on Midgard. Rising up, and standing between his friends, his quiet voice firm, “Enough.  Clearly, they _were_ on a break.”

“Thank you!” Fandral said, stepping back and spreading his arms in a decidedly Midgardian, “how you like me now” gesture.

Sif growled something about ‘men’ and dropped on to the sofa, arms crossed.

Loki smiled into his drink. How he had missed playing with them. 

“Shhhhh…” Volstagg spoke, “the wealthy man is beginning to fight ultimately, to win the heart of the fair Monica.”

Sadly for Volstagg it would be some time before he found the result of the match, because at that moment Nora let herself back into Loki’s life.

She stopped and then shook her head, refusing to respond to what she was seeing. Loki was pleased to see her looking much improved.  The unhealthy color of her skin had faded away, and her gaze was clear and knowing.  She had even taken time to get her hair styled.  It was less than an inch long, making her warm brown eyes look huge, like something from the forest.  It suited her, but he could not wait for it to grow back.  He had plans her that required long, fistfuls of hair.

“Well, it’s good to know that super powerful aliens and frat boys are basically interchangeable.”

“Mistress Nora!” Fandral sprang up and took her hand, kissing it. 

“Please.” She pulled her hand away as if it was burned.

Good.

Loki stood and made himself not approach her. “Have you decided my fate, Nora?”

“Yup.” She looked at him and it felt as if they were alone.  “I guess now you are my goddamned problem.”

There was an uproar amongst the others as bets were paid off. Volstagg gleefully took his compatriots gold.  “I told you she was tenderhearted.  She has the look of my fifteenth bride.   So sweet.  Cheated on me with everything in pants, but sweet.”

“Mistress Nora-“ Sif started to speak.

“Stop. And go.”  Nora said.  “Tell You Know Who that I will do his job for him.  But if this fucker steps out of line I expect you to be here fast as yesterday.”  She never looked away from Loki. 

Sif explained to her how to use the magical controller to signal for help.

“Was it the kneeling? It was the kneeling.”  He said to Nora, still feeling like they were alone in all the world. 

“No. It had nothing to do with you.  For once, little prince, it isn’t about you.  It’s about me.  I can’t do something like that place to anyone.  I'm too weak.”

But she wasn’t. Nora was strong.  Which was good.  Loki needed her to be strong.  All of his plans counted on it.

It took little time for Sif and the Warriors Three to depart, after Nora insisted that they pick up empties and take the garbage out. “I am betting none of you do your own laundry, do you?”  She asked.

They all looked confused.

“Figures.”

When they were actually, finally, alone Loki asked, “So, what is our plan, treasure.”

Nora lifted the little controller, “I told you not to call me that.”

“So you did. But what is the plan?”

“My plan is to find a new job. I don’t know what your plan is, and I don’t care.”  She walked out of his place and he found himself following her down the hall, confused.

“Wait, I don’t understand.”

Nora continued walking, “You don’t understand something? Amazing.  You might want to do something about your appearance.  Don’t want to give Mr. Choe a heart-attack.  Seeing Loki in his building and all.”

Loki shimmered into the form of the Asgardian guard that had brought his father news of his ‘death.’ But wearing a blue Ralph Lauren suit and brown shoes.

“Where are you going?”

Nora turned on him quickly, forcing him to stop so he wouldn’t bowl her over. “Away.  From you.  Don’t call us, buddy, we’ll call you.” 

“But-“

“I need to not see your face right now, ok? Behave or you will be on the Isle of Silence, right?  Just don’t, just don’t make me regret this right away.  I know I will eventually, but not right away.”

He let her walk away from him. She would be back.

Loki returned to Eddie’s lair of depression and looked around. “So, now what to do about this….”

 

Early September

The various members of the CDV Customer Service Division, along with select other employees all received in the mail, within a few days of each other, a hand addressed envelope of the thickest and creamiest paper. Within was a neat, black bordered card, printed with the blackest ink in Didot, the most elegant font of them all.

It read :

The Rassmussen Family requests your presence

At a gathering to celebrate the life and memory

Of Edward Wilhelm Rassmussen

September 9

3:00 PM

999 Lake Shore Drive

 

Loki, sitting at his desk in his penthouse apartment, taking a brief break from work and enjoying the perfect espresso his chef had just sent him, believed he could feel Nora reading the card. Her outrage raced across the city and poured over him like sweet, sweet honey.

He smiled and took a delicate sip. Let their games begin.

 


	2. Come On Down To My Soiree

999 Lake Shore Drive was the most exclusive residential building in Chicago. It sat on a corner, facing the lake on one side and a small park on the other. It was Beaux Arts in style, and the lower end residences started in the high six figures.

  
The penthouse had recently sold for just over three million.

  
It was a gorgeous place. Even on an unusually cold September afternoon, with a grey rain falling on the city, the grande dame had the kind of serene beauty that can only come from good bones and impeccable breeding, and the 999 had both.

  
Nora in the park across from it, holding an umbrella and a burning cigarette, and glared at the new and very intimidating lair of her enemy.

  
It was already nearly four, and Nora had been standing there since two. Her black flats were soaked, as were her black hose up to the knees. Her plan had been to get there early and confront Loki, find out what the hell he thought he was doing. Make him cancel this horror show.

  
But getting to the building she found it impossible to go inside. Her hands had started to shake, and she had given the doorman a nervous grin and walked past the door several times before finally crossing the street and watching as some of her former coworkers, Mr. Choe from Eddie’s building, and a group of what for all the world looked like homeless men, arrived, nervously approaching the imposing double glass doors, holding their invitations out to prove they belonged there.

  
Dre and Marissa had arrived at the same time, and had noticed Nora. When they started to cross over to talk to her she had held up the cigarette and they had both nodded and left her alone. In the few weeks since the CDV Incident they had all spoken on the phone and even gotten together once or twice. They had been emailing and texting furiously the last few days talking about a lawyer from the apparently terrifyingly important Cravath, Swaine & Moore who had contacted all of them about an upcoming settlement from Roxxon.

  
A really, really, REALLY big settlement.

  
“Maybe I’ll look at some condos while we are at Eddie’s memorial. Get me some of that Gold Coast real estate.” Dre had said.

  
Marissa had snorted, “Baby, it’s a good settlement, but not Gold Coast good. Old Town maybe, or Lincoln Park, but not Gold Coast. You are NOT moving on up to the East side.”

  
Nora really had to make herself cross the street. She took a few steps to the curb and stopped.

  
Nope, she couldn’t do it.

  
The nightmares that had finally stopped a few months after she had almost died in New York had been back in full force the last weeks since she had learned that her coworker cum not-her-boyfriend-but-just-a-friend Eddie was actually Loki.

  
Of course there were a few differences in the dreams now.

  
For instance, in the original nightmares she had been in New York on a bright, lovely day. In the current ones she was in Chicago, walking on State Street near Marshall Fields in the dead of night. In the original dreams Loki had been a wild-eyed demon in golden armor, hunting her through the streets with a pack of Chitauri serving as his hounds. Now he was a more composed demon, dressed in green velvet and black leather, smirking as he stalked her alone down the empty street, into the alley behind the Chicago Theatre, cornering her there.

  
Most significantly, after New York she had not been woken from any of the nightmares by a chest-heaving, moaning orgasms.

  
They were almost as exhausting as the original nightmares, with an added layer of self-disgust to haunt her for the rest of the day.

  
Nearly every damned day.

  
So now she stood, in the rain, terrified at how she would respond seeing him, and worrying about what exactly he was doing up there.  
The doors to the 999 building opened and a small man with fading brown hair in a beautifully tailored grey suit walked out, opening an umbrella in one neat move, and walked towards her. He was carrying an expensive looking thermos. Like something you would see in the Museum of Modern Art’s design wing.

  
“Miss Walsh? Mr. Rasmussen was concerned that you might catch cold, but understands you may not be ready to come in.” The neat little man somehow opened the thermos and poured her a cup of tea while still holding the umbrella, not fumbling or spilling.

  
He held it out to her, with a small smile on his small face.

  
Nora had a feeling that he would stay there, exactly like that, until she took the cup or left. No matter how long it might take. Days, if it came to that. Smiling all the while.

  
She took the cup and sipped. Hot tea with whiskey and honey.

  
Asshole. She must have told Eddie about her aunt’s cure all, from allergies to cancer.

  
“Fuck it.” Nora drank the rest of it like a shot and went to the memorial service.

 

 

Nora had let a maid dressed in grey take her coat and umbrella. She had in return taken a glass of champagne from a tray that another grey-dressed domestic functionary presented her with. The maid had murmured something about her shoes being wet, and could they offer her a pair of slippers. Nora ignored her and followed the sound of voices to the library.

  
The penthouse was everything it should be, with parquet floors, wooden paneled walls, and a lake view. Because the building was from a less gaudy era, the chandeliers were made with crystal and did not overwhelm the room, and the fireplace was smallish, with Arts and Crafts tiles surrounding it. The furniture was surprisingly comfortable looking, but expensively made. A mix of old pieces and new.

  
It did not look like a showplace. It looked like someone’s home. Someone with marvelous taste and a Imperial Russian budget.

  
And the books. The built in bookcases were bursting with books. Leather bound editions. Cheap, yellowing mass-market paperback. New bestsellers, foreign editions of classics, poetry chapbooks, monographs (whatever those were), even graphic novels.

  
A buffet was set-up, with an enormous amount of Scandinavian delicacies. Because they were delicacies almost no one who was attending the memorial seemed to recognize most of the items as food. While the salmon and rye bread was mostly gone, as were the homemade butter cookies, the rest of the things…. No. There was what looked like mayonnaise with small scoops of ice cream on top, black liquorice in little cubes, a tray of rotten fish, and meatballs that might have been ok, except for the blanket of bile-coloured sauce they were smothered in.

  
And lutefisk. Lots and lots of lutefisk.

  
Clearly Loki was even more evil than she had realized, subjecting people in mourning to that panoply of horrors.

  
Like the rest of the guests Nora chose to forgo the food in favor of more booze. That, at least, was excellent.

  
The four homeless looking men were almost unrecognizable now, except for the furtive way they huddled together near the fireplace, a horde of cookies and whiskey being passed amongst them. Someone had obviously supplied them with a place to clean up and new clothes in the last hour. Now they looked like the kind of old money eccentrics who would rarely left their hunting cabins, except to pop-up at a diner now and then, tip a waitress ten-thousand dollars, and then disappear back into their moneyed aether.

  
Mr. Choe was the only one eating the stranger food, and he and a plate of Surströmming had Kelsey trapped in a next to the drinks cart. “I would have killed for a plate of this garbage when I was in Bukchang, let me tell you. Never turn down free food, missy, you never know when it is going to be a hungry winter.” He kept moving the plate closer to the nearly cowering girl, trying to get her to take a fork-full.

  
“Um, ‘kay…” said Kelsey, who looked to Nora with pleading eyes.

  
Nora started to go to her rescue, and then remembered Kelsey getting out of Eddie’s car the morning of the explosion.

  
Nora smiled at her and silently wished her good luck getting the smell out of her hair.

  
Loretta, Dre, and Ashley were near the fireplace, talking to a tall man with curly auburn hair whose back was to Nora. He wore a gorgeous tweed jacket that seemed to be in love with his broad shoulders and long back. His legs were spread in a power stance and went on for days.

  
Dre gestured to Nora, “There she is.”

  
The man turned, his black-framed glasses flashing a bit. He was startlingly handsome. Not because of his long, slightly flaring nose, his elegant jaw and sensual but thin mouth, or even his dangerously high-cheek bones.

  
Nope, he was startling because it was Loki, and no one seemed to notice.

  
“Miss Walsh,” his voice was not quite as deep, and lacked that touch of growl, but was still a soothing, blatantly erotic baritone, and the accent was British, with a touch Swedish she was guessing, rather than that indescribable, Asgardian one.

  
He was also shorter, his height now impressive rather than godly, and his eyes were a warm hazel rather than impossibly green, and skin tone a warm gold and pink.

  
“Miss Walsh?” He repeated, again offering her his hand and breaking her out of her reverie. She took the hand hastily and gave it a firm shake, trying to pull free as quickly as possible.

  
He refused to let go and stepped a bit closer, flashing her a smile that no one else could see, “Thank you so much for coming. My cousin Eddie thought the world of you.” He said loudly and then bent in to give her cheek an air kiss, whispering, “You were beginning to worry me, treasure,” his warm breath licked her ear and it was all she could do not to shove him into the fireplace.

  
“I wouldn’t miss it. I was very, very fond of Eddie myself, Mr. Rasmussen.” She took a sip of champagne.

  
“Oh, call me Magnus, please. And do you prefer Nora?” He had loosened his tie a bit and reached under his collar, fingering the torc and staring into her eyes, his flashing a bit of green, and whispered close to her again, in his own voice, “Or do you prefer Mistress?”

  
She choked, spilling the rest of the glass down the front of her black dress.

  
“Oh, pardon me!” Loki said, with exaggerated contrition. “Let’s take care of that right away! Thank goodness champagne doesn’t stain. I would hate to ruin your, um, I am sorry, I must ask, is that a dress or a sackcloth?” Before Nora could stop him he, Loki was hustling her from the room, grabbing a full bottle of champagne on the way out, making his temporary apologies, instructing one of the servers to bring more drinks, and telling the small man in grey to do something about the food. “Bring out something these poor people can eat, Charles.”

  
Loki, God of Multitasking.

  
Nora found herself in a bedroom. Not his, she was sure that this understated room done in shades of plum and taupe was not his. She had no doubt Loki’s inner sanctum was a temple to worship himself in, and the rest of the residence was just for show.

  
Laid across the bed was a simple black wool dress with a dark green cashmere sweater, black silk tights, and a pair of black driving moccasins. The outfit probably cost more than every piece of clothing she had ever owned put together.

  
“Now, let’s get you out of those wet things.” There was a strange sound, like air moving outwards, if that was a sound, and when she turned around the relentless hunter of her amorous nightmares had taken the place of the sexy Humanities professor, and was starting to unbutton her.

  
His voice a dark purr that seemed to be whispering in her ear even when he was standing in front of her. “I am aghast to find the Midgardian expression about someone not being smart enough to come in out of the rain is not metaphorical.”

  
“Oh no you don’t.” Nora stepped back, brandishing the controller to his collar. It would have been lovely to push all the jeweled buttons at once and see if she could make his head explode.

  
“Ah. Then, I will leave you to it. Mistress.” Loki’s smile was even wider (and smugger) as he gave her a bit of a bow, and left the room, transforming back to “Magnus” as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 999 Lake Shore Drive building is a real, and beautiful place. I have taken as few liberties as could manage with it in the writing of this story.


	3. : I Want Your Company

While Loki waited for Nora to change clothes he checked on his other guests, making sure everyone had a full drink, and were enjoying the newly-less-challenging buffet. 

If his unrefined guests preferred such dull treats as French cheeses, tenderloin with paprika aioli, and fresh oysters, so be it. That just meant more leftover salmiak for him.

It was good to see Eddie’s former coworkers (well, the few that mattered) were generally doing well. And had all recently received such exciting news about an upcoming financial settlement from their former employer.

“You know, Magnus, man, Eddie passing is for sure because of that shit at CDV. You could probably own Roxxon if you wanted to.” Dre said, while juggling a glass of white burgundy and what looked to be one of the smaller catering trays now laden with mini-crab cakes, deviled pearl tomatoes, and the last of the salmon and dill. 

Eddie had always admired Dre’s eating. Very few people could match Loki when he was genuinely hungry, but he was willing to believe Dre might at least be able to keep him in sight. Volstagg had been as close to a challenge as he had had in hundreds of years, but his lactose intolerance had always left him vulnerable to sabotage.

“Ah, but I don’t. My own little company is more than enough to keep me busy. No, when Roxxon contacted me about money I was horrified that they thought that I could put a dollar amount on a human life.”

A soft, bitter laugh let him know that Nora had rejoined them.

The dress suited her beautifully, the high neckline flattering her graceful neck, and short skirt showing off her really quite good legs. Sadly, the fit was a bit off. His delectable female had lost some weight over the last few weeks. And the circles under her eyes were worrying as well. And the fingernails bitten to the quick.

Loki would have to move up his timeline. The stress of her unorthodox situation was clearly playing havoc with Nora, and seeing her brittle was distasteful to him. The sooner he could make Nora give herself into his charge the better for both of them. She would be cared for as he required she should be, as she clearly had not been previously. Then he would be able to concentrate on more important matters.

Like finding alternative route to the throne of Asgard, (and Midgard, while he was at it, even if he had to build one. Something French and 18th century would do). Earning his father’s respect and his brother’s forgiveness (or perhaps the other way around, it was hard to be sure). Curing the common cold (how had the mortals not relieved themselves of that scourge was beyond his ken). 

Oh, and destroying Thanos. 

Yes, the Titan had a great deal to answer for. 

In the meantime, hiding from Thanos was on the very top of his to-do list, even above Nora. If he couldn’t remain concealed from Thanos and his agents then that list would shrink to one bullet-point: Run! Faster! Lift those legs, you lazy cur!

“No, I imagine you are more interested in real estate. For instance, how many human lives would it cost to buy, say, a few blocks in Midtown Manhattan?” Nora said, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Nora!” Loretta’s tone was pure angry auntie.

Loki gave a staccato laugh. “Actually, my family, mine and Eddie’s, is quite land-rich, although a bit further a-field than New York.”

“You were right, Nora. Eddie did come from money.” There was a thick smell of rotting fish, and Kelsey appeared at Nora’s elbow. Loki had hired her as soon as he finished setting up his new identity, alluding in an ambiguous yet menacing way to information he had on her from his newly dead cousin’s affects. “Nora totally called. She said anyone that was as inept at day to day life as Eddie while being so smart had to have been raised by either wolves or nannies.”

“Hey, sexy librarian! Good to see you!” Mr. Choe appeared on Nora’s other side. He now held a plate of wine cookies, offering her one.

“Neighbor letch!” Nora responded, “Right back at you.” She snapped a cookie in her teeth.

This time Loki nearly choked. 

“Hey, is the other one coming? Brunette Sonia? Cause I would love to get a picture with the three of you. Something to remember Eddie by, since you three were the only thing really memorable about him. Um, sorry…” Mr. Choe trailed off, suddenly remembering that Magnus was Eddie’s grieving cousin.

“Actually, this might be a good time to start the memorial.” Loki clapped his hands twice. The soft Grieg piano concerto that had been playing was silenced, and everyone looked to him. 

“Hello everyone, I believe I have had the pleasure of meeting all of you, but in case I have missed someone, I am Magnus Rasmussen, and Edward Rasmussen, Eddie,” he let a soft sigh enter his voice here, with a near sub-audial hitch between the syllables, “was my cousin.”

He started to walk through the room, patting shoulders and shaking hands as he went, “My family, our family, has a long tradition of holding a quiet, private ceremony for only the closest relatives when one of us passes.” He tried not to laugh, or maybe sob, as he hazarded a guess about what was the surely elephantine public relations stunt that Odin had probably arranged, calling it Frigga’s funeral. 

“Because of this, it has also become a tradition for us to hold a memorial service for our lost loved ones, so that their friends might share with us stories and memories. Sadly, Eddie and I were the last of our –“

“Spawn-type?” He heard Nora murmur, followed by the sound of her being swatted, mostly likely by Loretta.

“-family. So even though we were never particularly close,” he ignored the snorting noise from herself, “or maybe because of that, I still feel a great need for those stories. Does anyone have something they would like to share? Other than Miss Walsh?”

 

Loki had finished his little speech, and after a few minutes one of the homeless men stood up, he was old and stooped, and introduced himself as Max. “Um, the fellas and I were real surprised that by your invitation, Mr. Magnus. We didn’t know Eddie so good, but he came to the library a lot, and we go there a lot, too. When it’s real hot, or too cold, or raining. You know. He was always asking us questions. About … I don’t know, stuff like why we were there, and how we fu-. Sorry, ma’am,” he kind of bowed towards Loretta, “How we messed up so bad that we didn’t have no places to go. Eddie didn’t mess around. He wasn’t mean, or nothing like that, just he wanted to know and he asked. It was nice, because it wasn’t like someone calling us names or trying to scare us, or trying to… sometimes people help you but it makes you feel worse because they are too nice. Eddie just wanted to know.

“And he used to bring cookies. That was nice, too.”

Nora was so concentrated on Max she missed Loki snaking through the crowd towards her. She noticed a look pass between him and Kelsey, who nodded and stepped away so he could take her place.

Nora wondered if she had enough coffee left in her cup to spill on him.

“Thank you, Max.” Loki’s Magnus voice boomed next to her. “Dave, you look like a man with something to say.” He graciously gestured to the engineer.  
“I was just remembering this one time Eddie showed up in the lab, carrying a box of LPs and a…”

Nora missed the rest of Dave’s anecdote. “Quite a nice turn out for an imaginary friend, wouldn’t you say?” Loki’s voice was soft enough that only she could hear it.

“You are without a doubt the vainest whatever-you-are that has ever existed. Having a memorial service so you can listen to people say nice things about you. But they aren’t. They are saying them about Eddie.” She hissed at him.

“We are one and the same, treasure.”

“No you aren’t. And stop calling me that.”

“Yes, we are. And what would you prefer I call you? I won’t oblige by calling you by that, mind you, but I am curious what endearments you do like. It says a lot about a person, what they desire to be called.”

“Right. You wanted to be called king, wasn’t it? Or maybe Emperor? Despot? Chief of Silly Hats? Director of Daddy Issues? Prime Minister of Feelings of Inadequacy?” Her voice rose, and his calm just made her angrier.

He was using his broad shoulders to block her any view of her from behind, and she felt him slip his hand along her waist. “You are not one of those women who is more beautiful when she is angry. You are quite splotchy at the moment, and I find it rather unbecoming.”

 

She turned to blurt something at him, and found their faces very close together. Rather than the smirk she was expecting he was frowning at her in a thoughtful way. There was a fine sprinkling of freckles across his nose. 

For some reason Nora found that little, human detail astounding. She imagined him, conceited as he was, staring into a mirror and playing with the freckles. How many, what size, what exact shade, would be most becoming to the arch of his nose. 

“You have freckles?”

“Yes.” His voice was slightly deeper than was even normal.

“Why?” 

“Because you have some. Just a few. Four very pale ones on the apple of your right cheek, you can barely see them. The one near the hinge of your jaw. And these, scattered here.” His finger lightly brushed the bridge of her nose. “They seem very human.” His voice was so soft, then he pulled back away and cocked an eyebrow at her, “A convincing shape-change is all in the details,” he said with a pedantic tone.

Nora’s lip curled in anger, but her breathing was rough. He kept making her forget that they weren’t the only ones here.

Dave had just finished speaking and Mr. Choe had started to clear his throat. 

“I have a few thoughts and feelings to share with the class, Mr. Rasmussen,” Nora said.

 

Loki smiled. Nora had been raised by a performer and it showed. She stepped to just the right spot in the room and everyone else stepped into place, giving her an informal stage to command.

“Mr. Rasmussen. Magnus. Our new, our good, friend. Thank you so much for hosting us your beautiful…home? Are you living here now? You are? Oh, goodie for us. Eddie told me so much about you, you know. Talked about you all of the time, actually.

“Eddie and I were such good friends, and I know that it would mean a so much to him that you were doing this today. In spite of everything that happened between the two of you. I am sure in time he would have come to forgive you for … well… you know.” She nodded seriously, keeping eye-contact. “I mean, so what if it was his parent’s house, it wasn’t like he was living in it was he?”

There was a shifting sound as many sets of eyes turned to him and then back to Nora.

“I mean, Eddie was such a character. So smart. So creative. I mean his taste was so bad he once wore a shirt that clashed with khaki, and he couldn’t tell the difference between pate and cat food – don’t ask me how I know that – but I think that was because he couldn’t bother to be concerned with such worldly things. Yes, Eddie’s thoughts were clearly beyond this simple world of ours.”

There was nodding.

“From what he told me, you are obviously a much more worldly man. Magnus. Friendo. Look at this beautiful home! Is that’s a Holbein tapestry, isn’t it? And the carpet, Persian. You don’t even care that there are cookies being ground into it even as we speak, do you? I am sure you have plenty of soda water and servants to take care of it.

“Did you ever see Eddie’s place?” A few of them nodded. “Not really like this, was it? No. Magnus, you say you and Eddie were the last of your family. He told me the same thing. He mentioned how your grandfather was so very angry that his older son married an American girl he disowned him. How you were raised in the lap of luxury, given the best of everything, educated at all the finest schools – Eton, Oxford, and, er, Hogwarts – while he was forced to settle for St. Paul the um…Equestrian Day School, Michigan State, and St. Trinians. 

“And now,” she made a gesture that either meant she was dismissing him or needed her check since she was late for a movie, “now that it is too late for you to share any of your good fortune – and it is good fortune, since the rest of us aren’t born royalty! I mean rich! Anyway! You come to us, now that it is too late, now that poor, short, fat, ugly, vulgar, annoying at times, clumsy Eddie is gone, to assuage your guilt. 

“Well, good luck to you sir, good luck.”

“Yeah!” Said someone.

“Fuck that guy.” Said someone else.

And words to that effect.

Within fifteen minutes everyone had cleared out, some more reluctantly than other. Some, Mr. Choe and the library crew, burdened with left-overs that they were not above taking.

“If you’ve been hungry enough you know that pride is a luxury, right boys?” Choe said as the group of them left together.

Loki gestured at Kelsey to leave with them. He knew the CDV crew well enough that they would be hitting a bar before going home.

Now he sat, sipping an old vine Cabernet and popping salty licorice. That could have gone better, but it was within his expectations. He knew Nora would never let his little celebration stand without having her say. She was just better at it than he had expected.

Extemporaneous lying on such a sumptuous scale! How delightful. 

He smiled at the memory of her last “Good luck to you sir, good luck.” She had ended on a soft, downbeat, rather than with outrage. The sadness had done the trick perfectly.

“What are you smiling about?”  
Nora.

“I had assumed you left with your angry mob.”

“I had to change back into my clothes.”

He turned. She was just done slipping on her now dry shoes and was finishing buttoning that last of her bodice. 

“That dress is terrible. You look like you mugged a 60 year old farmer’s wife on her way to visit her mother-in-law at the home. In the Democratic Republic of Congo. In a really bad year for the harvest.”

“Here.” She tossed the Dior sheathe he had picked for her in his lap, followed by Tod’s moccasins. She slid her coat on and turned on her heel to leave him. “The hose are hanging up in the guest bath. I rinsed them out.”

“Of course you did.”


	4. I Seem Real Nice and Easy To Trust

By late September Nora was wondering if she would be able to keep her house.

Her savings account had almost been tapped out by a combination of unemployment, an unseasonably cold early fall that had her running the heat already, and an emergency room vet bill that left her wondering if she would be willing to spend that much money on her own health.

Probably not.

She looked at Django’s tiny, decrepit body curled on the couch next to her and thought, “Well, if we end up homeless people will probably give me money to feed you, anyway.”

He growled at her in his sleep.

Taking the emergency fifty she had hidden in the copy of her aunt’s second album (Miss Walsh Meets the Blues), Nora shrugged into the barn coat she had worn most of her college years and headed out into the night. She couldn’t really afford to go out tonight, but then again, she wasn’t sure if she could stand to stay home. It was too depressing and at the moment she just wanted to drink a few beers, eat some pizza, and sing.

 

“Everything is on me, bitches!” Marissa crowed, running up to where they all stood huddled together against the damp wind, waiting to get into the Temple of Pizza.

“I am not your bitch,” Dre said, giving her a hug that lifted her off of her (very expensively shod) feet.

“You are tonight! I just got my CDV settlement and I am paying for everything!” She squealed.

He put her carefully down, “Then, yes, I am your bitch. But just tonight. I got a girlfriend now and she don’t want me to be anybody’s bitch but hers.”

“That is great news!” Nora hugged her too. It must have been an enormous amount of money for the famously hug-resistant Marissa to not only accept hugs, but to instigate them.

Ashley was practically vibrating with excitement. “That means everyone has gotten paid now, right?”

There was nodding all around. Except for Nora, who pretended to be distracted by something going on down the street.

“Um, Nora, you did get –“ Dave started, when she was saved by the hostess leaning out of the door and motioning them in.

“I though you said it would be a forty minute wait?” Nora asked.

The hostess nodded, “Yeah, but you have a reservation.”

“You don’t take reservations, I thought…” then Nora had an annoying idea pop into her head.

Which perfectly matched the annoying, faux-Wegian Magnus, smugly smiling and waving to them from the best and largest table in the crowded restaurant.

Kelsey was sitting with him, sipping a wheat beer and looking super-duper happy.

It was all Nora could do to stop herself from leaving. Or punching him. And probably breaking her hand.

Damn it this was supposed to be her night to not think about all of the fucking problems in her life and the biggest one of all had just invited himself to the party.

“Hello, everyone. I … I feel that this might be a better way to honor the memory of my cousin than the memorial service was.” Loki actually managed to blush and drop his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ms. Walsh, Nora,” he breathed softly and gave her a hopeful smile that made her want to pull his tongue out at the root, “you’re right, I did not do well by Eddie in any way when he was alive. It was badly done of me, and I can only hope against hope that you will someday forgive me for it. Since he never can.” He lifted his gaze, and behind his glasses his eyes were moist.

And for just a second when everyone else was looking away in embarrassment he flashed them emerald green at her.

Oh, how she hated him.

“At any rate, I hope you all take this opportunity to have your own, private memorial for my cou-,” he stopped himself and nodded, “No, for Eddie.” He turned and clapped Kelsey on the shoulder. “Miss Corcoran has started working for my corporation, and she has my card to pay for the evening. I really do insist on it.

“Thank you all for being there for Eddie when his family failed him.” He then gave Nora a look she couldn’t decipher and walked out, shrugging into a black cashmere jacket as he went.

“Nora….” It was Loretta, and Nora knew exactly what that sergeant-cum-sassy-grandma tone meant.

“Yeah, you really should,” was Dre’s so helpful contribution.

And so on. For as long as she could stand it, which, with the looks on their faces and the tones of their voices wasn’t very long.

“Why me? Why can’t one of you…? Fuck me. Never mind, I’ll go. Mom will take care of it. Again.”

She started to follow him through the crowd but turned back and leaned over the table to Kelsey. “Say, what kind of company does he run, anyway?”

Kelsey smiled at her, bright-eyed and pleased, “Magnus runs one of the top consultancy firms in the world.”

“Of course he does.”

 

Loki calculated.

Nora would hesitate. The others would gently nudge and then aggressively use guilt to persuade her follow Magnus and make him return with her to enjoy their evening. Based on what he knew of her stubbornness and the crowds she would have to navigate in and outside of the Temple she would be reaching him….

Right.

About.

Now.

“Wait up, you long legged freak.”

Ah, his esteemed one’s dove-like coo wafted to him over the sound of the traffic.

She was slightly out of breath. “You should work out more, if you are winded after that.” He leaned a shoulder against a lamp post and crossed his arms, enjoying the sight of her panting a bit. Something to add a bit more veracity to his ever-more-elaborate fantasies about her.

“Well, I no longer have a free gym membership since my place of business went up in smoke, so you will excuse me if I am not fit enough for you.”

“Surely with all of those fat settlements Roxxon is throwing around you should be able to join any place you might wish to work up a sweat.”

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that. C’mon,” she gestured towards the restaurant, “come back with me. You got your way, everyone thinks you are a misunderstood sweetheart and not a sociopath with a good tailor and nice hair.”

“Not everyone.” He took two steps and invaded her personal space, just the way he loved and that he knew she was confused by, her mind wanting to step back and her body wanting to lean in. “Or do you want me to come, too?”

“Yes. If you don’t I will never hear the end of it.”

“Then I will be happy to join you all for pizza and ale, on one condition.”

At that Nora did step back and squinted in anger, “Which is?”

“I am given the honor of picking the song you will sing tonight.” He said, in his own voice, close enough that his words brushed her face.

“I should blast you head clean off of your shoulders.”

“That would be quite exciting for the good folk of Wicker Park. And against your character as well.”

“Fine.” She cocked her head and mirrored his shit-eating grin.

“What?”

 

After much pizza and more beer had been drunk, and Magnus had been universally (at their table anyway) been declared to be, “alright,” it was time for karaoke.

While everyone pored over the song list Nora waited.

Loretta sang “Forget Me Nots” and got Dre dancing with Kelsey.

A very tall Asian man from another table did a terrible and yet joyous version of “Thrift Shop.”

Kelsey sang “Teenage Dream,” like she really meant it. Shame she sucked.

The girls who followed her, doing a group sing of “Someone That I Used to Know,” were much, much worse.

Nora waited, watching how Magnus pretended not to look at the song list until – oh, look, he just happened to glance down and notice something, while casually sipping a beer.

He leaned across the table to her, his voice lower than normal, but audible to everyone at the table.

“You know, Nora, this was Eddie’s favorite song.” He said, pointing.

She looked at the sheet.

Oh, fuck no.

“I-“

She looked down the long table, and everyone leaned towards her, waiting.

Nora saw him make the infinitesimal gesture with one finger of his left hand, and suddenly Kelsey piped up, “He really, really loved your voice, Nora. You were, like, his FAVORITE singer. Eddie said.”

When she got up on stage and pointed to “You’re Making Me High,” the guitar player was so shaken by the look on her face he turned too quickly and actually fell off of the stage. Luckily he landed on a bar back and no one of value was hurt.

Fine. Loki wanted to play. She could play. Nora pulled off her cardigan and undid three of her buttons, licked her lips, and wrapped one her legs around the mic stand, using an old singer’s trick of her aunt’s to look like she was making eye contact with several men at once.

Then she zeroed in on Loki and locked onto him for the Entire. Fucking. Song.

At first she just wanted to see if she could fluster him. Or, more to the point, if she could fluster Magnus, forcing Loki to act like he was uncomfortable. Squirm a little. And he had to oblige. He didn’t look away, but he made sure that Magnus seemed both awkward and slightly aroused. The rest of their party were laughing and slapping him on the back and having a ball.

But them something shifted. The first verse ended and for all the world Nora couldn’t remember where she was or why she was there. She was not just singing for him, she was singing to him. Not to Magnus, not to the gorgeous mask, but to Loki. She couldn’t help it. She was helpless.

He was facing her, his legs spread, taking up room that everyone in the crowded space seemed to unconsciously cede to him as his right, and he leaned forward, an elbow on one long thigh, a slight snarl and then a faint smile playing back and forth across his face, and his gaze took every inch of her in. And then it just took her.

Her whole body was on point and yearning and prickled over with warmth. This had been a terrible idea that she wanted to hate but was hypnotized by.

“ _I want to feel your heart and soul inside of me_  
 _Let's make a deal you roll, I lick_  
 _And we can go flying into ecstasy_  
 _Oh Darlin' you and me_  
 _Light my fire_  
 _Blow my flame_  
 _Take me, take me, take me away_ ”

She got a leaping to their feet standing ovation from about 80 percent of the men in the room and about 60 percent of the woman.

The CDV table sat in perfect, unmoving silence, all of them looking alternately terrified and delighted, staring between Magnus and Nora and wondering what the hell had brought that on.

Blushing scarlet, Magnus spoke with a husky voice, “Eddie was right. You are a marvelous performer.” And again, like in Eddie’s kitchen, like at the memorial service, it was like they were alone together in all world.

Nora mentally slapped herself. And then him, trying to snap out of it.

“Now it’s your turn. And I know just the song,” Nora said, staring into his eyes while tapping the list with a discernable click of her fingernail on the cardboard. “You did say outside that you were hoping to sing tonight, to be just like one of us, didn’t you?”

 

Nora had to admit it. Loki’s version of “Call Me Maybe,” brought the house _down_.

 

That night Loki soaked in his newly installed tub (the old one had been fine for a mortal form, but far too tiny for him to stretch out in as himself) and considered the night that had just passed.

Nora had, again, surprised him. Not what she had done, but how she had done it. How she had drawn him in. He could not remember the last time he had been so aroused, so close to out of control.

Yes, he could. And things had gone badly for, well, everyone.

 

Then he considered the size of his erection.

He wrapped a long hand around his cock, and leaned back in the near to boiling hot water that smoked around him, and closed his eyes, conjuring up Nora and her voice and her mouth.

Later that night, after pleasuring himself three more times and sending a report to his latest client, Stark Industries, Loki stretched, took off the brass torc and hung it on one of the posts at the foot of his bed, and fell into a well-earned sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, this story takes place in 2013.


	5. Maybe It’s Time You Stopped Pretending

“Thank you, Mrs. Beekman.” Loki said to his personal chef as she finished laying out the last of his breakfast in the smaller dining room.

There were probably thousands and thousands of beings that had waited on Loki over the centuries and he was fairly certain he had never known the name of a single one of them. Well, except for his personal tailor. The man responsible for getting his inseam right was too important not to acknowledge in some way.

But on Midgard, particularly as he was still using WWND as his guiding principle, he made a point of knowing EVERYONE’S name. Not just his personal servants, but everyone he came into contact with more than once. All of the workers at the building, from the manager (a stunning woman named Rita Songprawati), to the newest part-timer on the grounds crew (Daniel Morales), to the couple who ran the closest grocery store, a tiny place in the basement of another expensive residential building (the Felds). 

Not only did he know their names, but he made a point of knowing small but pertinent facts about all of them. For instance, his “valet” Charles collected vintage running shoes. While the reasons anyone would have for doing such a thing were beyond even Loki’s immense intellect, knowing it had turned out to be especially useful when hiring this most excellent (and dangerous) of servants away from his last employer. He had obtained some footgear called Air Jordan Original V Colored Netting – whatever that meant – which were apparently rare and desirable enough to cause Charles to basically genuflect and offer his service and the service of all of his descendants to Magnus from that moment until the ending of the world.

Or something like that. The man had been sobbing so loudly it was hard to be certain.

Loki also knew that Torey, the man who brought his car around was an aspiring actor and was very grateful when asked about how the auditions were going. Mila Growchoski who did his dry cleaning was always delighted when he remembered about her small rose garden. Tom, from whom he bought his special and highly illegal computer equipment, pretty much lived off of coffee and paranoia and was easily moved by a bag of high-caffeine beans or a new and unprovable conspiracy theory. 

Mrs. Beekman engaged in an underground MMA fight club for seniors.

Nora would have found out all of these things because she found people genuinely interesting and was curious about those around her. Loki found them out because he had been pretending to be interested and curious. What he had learned, to his surprise, was that it was very nearly as useful to be able to manipulate unimportant people as it was to manipulate important ones. It was like some sort of golden ratio where advantage-wise, being able to influence ten peons worked out to finessing two-thirds of someone that actually mattered.

Loki found it fascinating.

Even more fascinating (and perhaps sad, if it had not been in his favor) was that people seemed unimpressed by Nora’s actual enthusiasm for her fellow man, everyone thought that he was utterly and in all ways wonderful. 

Apparently no one expected a tall, handsome, powerful person with a penis to be anything other than a steaming pile of privileged detritus, so the credit he received for his behavior was many orders of magnitude greater than could possibly be deserved.

Had he met Nora centuries ago he would probably be ruling all Nine Realms by now. 

He smiled, thinking of how that would infuriate her, and sipped his fifth cup of coffee while reaching for the platter of breakfast meats, when he heard the doorbell.

“Charles, you know I don’t care to interrupted at meal times.” He called out of the door of the dining.

The quietly gray man looked into the room. “I will deal with it, Mr. Rasmussen.”

A few moments passed when he heard the clicking of Charles’ polished oxfords on the parquet as he returned, looking uncertain. 

Loki sighed. “I am assuming you did not deal with it?”

“I would -, that is, sir, it is Miss Walsh.” 

Loki had made it very clear to everyone working in the building, and for him particularly, that Nora was allowed to have access to him any time she might arrive, and that she was welcome in him home even when he wasn’t there. 

But he had also made it clear that meal times were sacred to him.

Poor Charles’ perfect servant’s brain was torn.

It was rather amusing to watch the permutations of conflicting emotions crossing the man’s face, and Loki might have let it go on, but he did not want to keep Nora waiting, especially as he had expected to have to seek her out a number of times further (four by his guess) before she would come to him.

“Miss Walsh is an exception to all of my rules.” He said to Charles. And perhaps to himself. “Please see her in.”

Charles’ relief was palpable.

Nora entered the room, pushing her bicycle, looking very wind-blown. Had she ridden all the way from the South Side? No, that wasn’t acceptable. There were a number of questionable neighborhoods between her house and his tower. 

She gestured to the bike. “Sorry, I wasn’t planning on coming here so I forgot the lock.”

“I am sure it would have been safe in the lobby. With the guard.”

“Whatever. I don’t like leaving it. May I?” She looked at the coffee pot in a way that made him rather envious of it. 

Nora poured herself a cup and plopped into one of the other chairs at the table, sipping. “Bridgeport Roasters?”

“I fear you have caused me to become an addict.”

“Good, they can use the business.”

When Charles closed the door behind him, Loki smiled and transformed back into himself. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” He said, stretching.

“If you say so.”

Your blown irises say it, my darling, he thought, and some morning we are going to have each other for breakfast on this very table.

“Please, help yourself to anything you like. If there is something you don’t see I am certain Mrs. Beekman can correct the lack of it.”

Loki could see she was hungry from her ride and the early hour, but was hesitant to take anything.

“I am not Hades, treasure. Even if you eat all of the food at my table you can still leave any time you wish.”

She rolled her eyes at him, which he thought was adorable, being a great advocate of eye-rolling himself, and served herself a bagel and lox with extra cream cheese. 

They sat in more than expected companionable silence while eating.

“You should try this bacon, the one with the pepper, it is exceptional.” He placed some on her plate, along with a ramekin of shirred eggs, some baked tomatoes, and a corn muffin with sausage and peppers. 

“I can’t eat all of this.” Nora said, and then proceeded to make a liar out of herself. 

They sat again. Food done. Sipping more coffee and not speaking. Finally she said, “Don’t you want to know why I am here?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping you just wanted my company. As I want yours.”

“Um. No.” She said, looking a bit pink. “Actually I am here because -, wait, no. Why do you want my company? I am pretty much the only person who can mess with you, out you, hurt you. I would think you would want me to stay away from you. You could have gone anywhere, far away from me.”

He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, looking her in the eye, “Oh, no. I don’t want that at all. I crave you being as close to me as possible. I thought that was abundantly clear.” Even if it wasn’t clear to her up to now, it would be if he stood up. 

“But why?”

“You’re my friend, Nora. Don’t people want to be near their friends? Admittedly I don’t have much experience in this area, but that is what the literature tells me.”

“I am not your friend. I thought I was Eddie’s friend, but since he didn’t exist-“

“I was Eddie, if you want to not believe that, if it is easier for you, fine. But I was Eddie, and your friendship was one of the only things that made it bearable. And, as I am stuck on this little world until I prove to Odin that I am safe enough to uncollar, I would at least like to spend my free time with the most compelling creature on it.” 

He lightly stroked the bronze torc, noting how her eyes followed his touch.

He may have seen just the very tip of her tongue when her lip curled. Then she cocked an eyebrow at him, “Oh, stop that. I know you aren’t interested in me THAT way, but you just can’t help yourself, can you? Anyway, you spoiled brat, you get your wish, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”

“I am confused by everything you just said. In what way do you think I am not interested in you, and what do you mean I will be seeing more of you?”

Nora grabbed an orange from the elaborate arrangement and sat back in her chair, propping her feet on the table while peeling it. “First, if I wasn’t good enough for Eddie, then I am for sure not good enough for Prince Haughtypants. And second, I am losing my house, and I don’t have a job, both of which are your fault.”

“I thought all of you CDV folks were getting money from our old friends at Roxxon.” He heard his own voice, going on automatically without him. She thought he didn’t want her? What did he have to do, write her a slim volume of pornographic verse?

“Not me. Apparently because I wasn’t in the building when the explosion happened, and chose to endanger myself. And “others,” she made quotes with her fingers, “Roxxon’s lawyers feel pretty safe in stiffing me.”

She got up and circled the table to his side, “Anyway you have all of this extra room, so I am moving in with you. I should get something out of this debacle that you have turned my life into.

“I also figure you should probably give me some kind of job. Just to make things official. I can be your social secretary. Do people even have those anymore, or is it just something from old movies?”

“I - “ Loki had no words. 

Then she got up and put her fingers under his chin, closing his mouth. “I don’t suppose there are any flies in here, but you can’t be too careful.”

 

Nora was proud that her hands hadn’t been shaking when she touched Loki’s face. She was even surer than ever that this was a terrible idea, but now she was committed. 

Or she should be.

Once the shock had worn off he had been delighted, which made her even more nervous. Why had this seemed like such a good idea when she couldn’t sleep the night before? Oh, because she was even more afraid of being homeless than she was of him.

“I like this idea of you working for me, Nora. We can hold each other’s leashes. Yours will be metaphorical, of course, unlike mine,” he smiled, looking at the pocket where she kept the magical doohickey that bounded his collar.

As she rode along the Lakeshore, into the thin fall rain, she wondered how long it would be, now that they would be spending more time together, until he figured out that the controller no longer worked.


	6. This Is Why We Lie Awake

August 2013

 

_“The Isle of Silence is all that is dreadful and foul. And certainly what I am deserving of for my crimes.  Not just on Midgard, but throughout the Nine Realms.  I have been a ravening beast, a monster, in ways that someone with your heart could not imagine nor understand.  Just as someone of your goodness could not understand the Isle of Silence.  It is … Evil for the evil.”_

_“So why shouldn’t I let them take you there?”_

_“No reason, except it is not in you to do such a thing. We don’t get dicks fired, remember?  We make them miserable, torment them, but we don’t get them fired.  Well the Isle of Silence is me being fired from reality.  Torment me, Nora, make me miserable, but you do it.”_

_Nora looked at Loki, kneeling to her, begging her for his… not his freedom, but for something else. She wasn’t sure what exactly, but she knew in her heart that if he wanted something from her she should deny it to him.  But to condemn him?  She had been made his judge, and now she had to decide if she would be his executioner or his jailer._

_What had she done to deserve this?_

_Oh, that’s right, she had gone to work this morning._

_“You are a bit worse than a dick. I need time to think.”  And to cry.  And to get her head to stop spinning.  It was all too much.  Too unreal._

_Loki quickly wiped the flash of triumph off his face. But she saw it anyway and it was almost enough to make her choice for her._

_“Mistress-“ Lady Sif started to say something, and Nora’s temper snapped._

_“Listen, I think it is weird enough that his AllDaddy sent the woman who hatefucks him sometimes to do this-“_

_Sif started in horror, “How? Did he tell you-“_

_“No, but you just did.” Loki barked a laugh and then covered his mouth in an exaggerated gesture, “Anyway, you interstellar …. Interfering…. Why don’t you all just stay at home?”  She shouted, “I thought Asgard was supposed to be so awesome, so why don’t you all just stay there?  I am leaving, and I am thinking, and you are giving me as much time as I want and don’t you dare say anything.  You all live thousands of years, so fuck you all for messing with what little time I have.”_

_Nora wondered if she was even making any sense. She didn’t care.  And she left._

 

Even though she had called Marco from the hospital and he had taken care of feeding Django and letting him shit in the yard, the tiny, snarling dog still acted as if Nora had abandoned him entirely for years, and he had dragged himself free of the grave to have his yapping revenge on her.

 

She barely noticed him.

 

She took a proper shower with soap that didn’t feel like laundry detergent, and when she poured the usual amount of shampoo out and realized it was far too much for her now-shorn hair, Nora finally cried. She stood in the shower and she cried and cried until her eyes burned and her throat ached.

 

Too tired to make it to her bed, she wrapped herself in an ancient house coat from Ben Franklin and curled up on the sofa with Django lying on her wet hair.

 

 

Nora might have slept for a week if not for the sound of a huge thunderstorm waking her up, panicking, and scrambling to close her windows.

 

Except while everything outside of her front gate was being pelted with rain and hail, everything inside of it was dry and experiencing a pleasant, cool breeze.

 

“Oh, crap.”

 

There was a light, polite knock on her door.

 

Nora held the gaping housecoat more firmly around her middle and looked out the window next the door.

 

Yup.

 

Big brother was standing on her porch, rocking from heel to tow, with his hands folded, like he was there to borrow the last cup of her sanity.

 

 

“This is quite good.” Nora’s largest soup mug looked like as espresso cup in Thor’s hand, and he handled as if it were a fragile relic.  She had a feeling he had accidentally destroyed a large number of things since arriving on earth and was constantly worried about adding to the list.

 

She drank more coffee and glared at him.

 

“You know, the last time I sat out here I was with your brother. Except, of course,” she gave a fake laugh, “back then he was this little customer service guy named Eddie who always smelled like Totino’s Pizza Rolls and Old Spice.  One of those new ones, not the classic, like Snakemountain or whatever the fuck they call that stuff now.  I mean, does anyone actually want to smell like a mountain?”  He just looked at her, nodding, “You have no idea what I am talking about, do you?”

 

“No, but I am sure it is entirely relevant and interesting.”

 

“That’s right, you have a human girlfriend, don’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Tell her well done. You are pretty housebroken for being such a big fella.”

 

“Jane is wonderful.”

 

“Good, then maybe your brother can live in her basement. She can have this,” Nora pulled the little brass controller for the torc out of her hoodie pocket and tossed it onto the little garden table.  It skidded towards Thor and then teetered on the lip.

 

“I am afraid it won’t work for anyone other than you, Mistress Walsh. My father would not want something so powerful to fall into the wrong hands.”

 

“Do you mean the device or …. Loki? Oh, god,” she put her hand to her mouth.  Now that she had said it out loud suddenly this whole thing was real.  There was a god sitting in her garden and she hadn’t weeded since June.  “I can’t do this.”

 

Nora started to stand up, but Thor, very gently, laid a hand on her wrist. “Please.  Mistress Walsh.  I just found out that my brother was alive.  Again.  And I have no idea what has happened with him.  Will you tell me?”  He looked terribly sad.  She thought about her brother Sam, big and fearless, and how he would sometimes look so helpless because sometimes physical things were useless and he wasn’t sure what else he had to offer.

 

“Ok.”

 

For the next hour, through a box of frozen Thin Mints and another pot of coffee, this one with liberal shots of Irish, Nora told him the Saga of Eddie Rasmussen and the Customer Service Manager, or at least what she knew of it.

 

When she got to, good god, just the morning before, and she mentioned that Kelsey was with Edoki when they arrived at CDV, and what she thought that meant, Thor shook his head. “No, Loki would never reinvolve himself with a dimwitted female.  She must be a witch, or sorceress, or some other form of ally.”

 

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

 

Then she took him through the events with Sif and the Warriors Three.   “And then I came home, cried my eyes out, and fell asleep, and now we are drinking coffee and I am waiting for you to tell me that you are going to be taking your brother to S.H.I.E.L.D prison.  Which, I am hoping is an actual thing.”

 

“You say Loki died? While you were there?”

 

“Eddie, but yeah.”

 

“He must care for you greatly. Loki only dies in the presence of those he values.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

So, over the last bottle of good wine she had left in the kitchen, a six-pack, and all of the snacks she could gather, Thor told her the Saga of Loki, the Frost Giants, and the Letting Go (and Not Being Pushed) of Thor’s Hand on the Rainbow Bridge. And then over more coffee, the Saga of Loki, the Dark Elves, and the Being Stabbed Through the Back with a Giant Scalpel On Svartalfheim.

 

Thor wasn’t a particularly gifted storyteller (he kept getting distracted and occasionally Nora was less than certain what parts of the story were actually important and which were just Asgardian Color Commentary.)

 

“So, wait, this is the third time Loki died? Sort of?”

 

“It may be more. He has always been running off on his own -  learning new magicks, seducing whatever pretty thing he comes across, inciting dancing and riots, you know, mischievous actions and chaos.  He could have died any number of times in there and gotten better.  He never tells his big brother much.”

 

Thor’s smile was fond and wistful.

 

“Oh, god, you want me to keep him, don’t you?”

 

Nora stood up again, and this time was determined to not be called back.

 

Thor didn’t try to stop her, he rushed past her and knelt.

 

It was dark by that point, very dark and very late, and the light from her kitchen door created a kind of halo affect around the god’s golden head.

 

“I beg of you, Mistress Walsh. I -, Loki is broken, but less than he was.  The wild-eyed creature who tried to take your planet, who nearly took your precious life, was unknown to me.  But the man who was jailed on Asgard, who avenged our mother, the man who repeated smote Kelly-of-HR for your sake, and baked many cookies, that is my brother.  I feel him holding on to the shreds of who he was before, before he found out his parentage, and I know that saner creatures than he have had their minds destroyed by the Isle of Silence. 

 

“Loki trusts you. That is rare as hen’s teeth.  My father is willing to put his child in your hands-“

 

“His lesser child.” Nora couldn’t help herself.  She felt for the son who knew he could never be as important in his father’s eyes as the perfect-looking goof that knelt on her thyme patch.

 

“His child. My father loves Loki the same way I do.   Without understanding him.”

 

“I can’t-“

 

She started to step around Thor, but he grabbed her hands, “Please, I beg of you. Save my little brother.”

 

“You fight dirty.”

 

“I fight to win. It was how I was raised.  I know you fear Loki, how-“

 

“I don’t.” Astonished, Thor let go of her hands, and Nora plopped down in the herbs with him.  Her pajama pants were going to smell like basil, “The part that scares me is that wasn’t scared of him.  I was freaked out and agitated and a bundle of nerves, but I wasn’t scared.  Looking at him I should have been pissing myself, blind with fear, but I was just angry and hurt.  Even the thought of seeing him, of being around him, doesn’t scare me.  So clearly I have lost my mind.”

 

They sat in silence for a time. Finally, Thor said very quietly, “So will you…..?”

 

“Yes, because I am really selfish.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because I would rather risk my whole damned planet than fell guilty for sending a deserving piece of garbage to Planet Horrible. Plus, you look like a golden retriever who is nudging its favorite toy at me with its nose.  Who could resist that?”

 

You haven’t really lived until a prodigiously strong and happy god has swept you into his arms and spun you around like a child.

 

When Thor finally set her down, and they both stopped laughing, and Nora’s head stopped spinning, she grabbed his arm, “Wait, there is a – woah, damn, now I don’t normally like big boys, but that is impressive… anyway, there is a condition for my Loki-sitting.”

 

“Anything I can grant is yours, Mistress.”

 

Nora snatched the controller from the table and held it up to him, “I don’t want anything to do with this. I am not a corporal punishment girl, and your brother is a smart-ass, and I don’t trust myself.”

 

“But it is your only protection from Loki.”

 

“Nope, you are. So I get you on speed dial, and you ALWAYS pick up, even if you are off Avengering.  Hell, especially if you are Avengering.  I want to thank Captain America for saving my grandfather in France. I take it you are not going to be telling them that Loki is here?”  Thor shook his head.

 

“They are my brothers, and sister, in arms, but my first loyalty is to my brother.”

 

“Then you fuck this thing up so that it doesn’t work, but it _looks_ like it works, if you understand.”

 

For a full minute it looked like he didn’t but then a sunlight smile crossed his face and he snatched the controller from her hand and placed it on the sidewalk. Then, picked up his hammer from where he had left it next to Django’s sleeping carcass on the back-porch, and gave the devise the tiniest tap with one Mjolnir’s corners. 

 

There was a barely audible tinkling noise, but when Thor handed her the controller it looked unmarked.

 

“That should do it.”

 

Nora walked him to the front. “Well, it was nice meeting you.  The next time you have a family reunion please encourage your father to send any other wayward relatives to another planet.  We are full-up on gods here, the divine naughty step is full, so time to find another corner to put you all in.”

 

“My brother must think you are wonderful.” Thor said, kissing her hand, and then rev’ed up his hammer and flew away.

 

Which, considering the rest of her day, didn’t seem as weird as it could have.

 

She turned to see Marco, leaning on her gate, smoking a cigar, “Hey, was that Thor?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He nodded, his lips pulled down in consideration, “He’s a big guy,” he said, and moved on to finish his late night stroll.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the weird spacing.


	7. Things Are What You Make Of Them

It wasn’t until he saw her crying over a stack of old take-out menus that it occurred to Loki that Nora, perhaps, did not want to leave her house.

In the interest of moving things along he had been helping her sort her belongings, deciding what to take with her, what to store, what to discard in other ways. He had wanted to hire a crew to handle things for her, but she refused and only grudgingly accepted Loki’s personal help because she clearly savored the idea of him getting his hands dirty.

As Nora and her aunt had neither been inspired housekeepers, his hands were at times very dirty indeed.

If it had been up to Loki he would have had her just leave behind everything but her books and that one plaid dress (and maybe those grey suede heels. He approved of what they did to her legs), and just supply anything she might.

Including her terrible rat-hybrid dog monster, which had taken one look at him and promptly fallen in love. With his shin-bone.

Nora was in perpetual amusement at the sight of the creature humping on him. “Don’t worry. Django is so old if he comes it is just going to be dust. You can brush it right off.”

On past occasions, laughter at Loki’s expense had led, variously, to revenge by violence, explosion, uncontrollable itching, sarcasm, adultery, humiliation of different types, be it public, physical, or social, and in one case a curse that caused the victim to break into joyful dance every time they heard any variation on the word “tragedy.”

But, strangely, Loki found that he rather liked Nora laughing at him. Or rather, he liked Nora laughing. He hadn’t heard her laugh in nearly a month and he had forgotten how sublime it was.

First, she would try to resist, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, but finally a very unladylike snort would burst from around her fingers, and then she would give over entirely, bending a bit forward and shaking wildly with the laugh, until she would finally put her hands out as if pushing away the source of her amusement.

If the sight of her revolting pet making furious love to his $1000 Italian wool work pants gave her that much pleasure then so be it. Let the creature pursue its lover, even if he was finding it nearly impossible to do the same.

The first day or so had been rather simple, pleasant even, though she kept trying to get rid of him.

“Don’t you have a multi-national evil corporation to give advice on how to further exploit their workers or destroy the environment? Or something?” She had muttered when he had insisted that they should just toss out a box of Christmas lights that no longer worked.

“I have people for that. Mostly I just smile comfortingly in photos and create sound bites. And I think you would be quite surprised that most of our ideas are to the benefit of both-”

But she had wandered off to another part of the basement, going through a lawn and leaf bag full of socks.

After a day or two Nora had stopped sniping at him and started telling him stories.

The story about why she refused to throw out the lid to a soup tureen, the bowl of which had been “dropped” by her brother Chris in protest over their parents reneging on a promise to take Nora and her friends to the Milwaukee Zoo for her sixth birthday. “Chris was always the favorite. He looks exactly like my dad so both of my parents worship him. It was the only time he ever used his power of never getting in trouble for someone other than himself.”

Loki idly made a note to himself to find out more about Nora’s brother. Such as what he was most afraid of….

Then there was a story that required him to do three shots of malort to help Nora finish a bottle. It was the foulest thing he had ever tasted, including a universally, no, a _famously_ , rank whore who he had lost a bet to on Knowhere.

After a while he found himself to be the cause of packing taking longer than it should be asking her questions about every unusual item. Of which there were many. Aunt Claire had been a bit of a hoarder, and Nora had not had the heart to dispose of much after her death.

Earlier on the day of Nora crying, Loki had been going through one of the endless stacks of albums in the tiny house, when a photo fell out of the cardboard sleeve of The Look of Love by Dusty Springfield. It was a black and white photo of Nora’s aunt when she was a younger woman, wearing a little black dress with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She was sitting on the lap of a man with light, short curls. He wore a black suit and tie, and held a glass of something dark, and they were staring into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the party that was going on around them (clearly taking place in this very house), the photographer, maybe the air itself.

Loki looked into the sleeve and saw a few more photos, and he shook them out. They were all of the man, some of them in color. His hair was dark gold, and his eyes almost too blue for Loki’s comfort. With the exception of the photo with Claire on his lap he scowled in all of them, pretending to be annoyed to be photographed. Loki knew it was an act. The man was sternly handsome, almost too much so, and elegantly dressed and coiffed in every picture. He was obviously vain and desired the attention.

“Oh, I wondered what Aunt Claire did with those. She said she burned all of them, but I knew she was full of it.” Nora leaned over him where he sat on the floor, her smell of fresh apples and port engulfing him. If he could have leaned into the scent and rolled around in it like a velvet blanket, he would have. “Let me guess, Dusty, right?” She took the record out and put in on the old hi-fi.

A lovely voice, pure, slightly husky, and utterly lovesick, came from the old speakers.

_“I've been burned_   
_Whenever I've followed all the rules_   
_So I've learned_   
_That playing it fair is just for fools_   
_I'm fighting and win or lose_   
_I'm not minding my P's and Q's,”_

“I like this song.”

“You would. My aunt did too. It was her anthem for Bobby.” She gestured to the photos and then plopped bonelessly onto the sofa. “He was her obsession, the great love of her life. He was some society doctor and she met him when she was singing at a party the Marina City penthouse. That place is gross. He lived there, too, it was the 60s and it was the fabulous place. Party party party. He had just ended his marriage and started his drinking-as-hobby. They took one look at each other and that was it. By dawn she was up in his apartment, having sex on the balcony.”

“What happened?” Loki said, wondering about the sex, but Nora misunderstood. And, he reasoned later, her aunt probably had not chosen to give her many of the better details.

“They adored each other, but he adored bourbon just enough more…. They would fight and throw things at each other, and then he would storm out, and she would follow, and eventually they would end up back in bed together, although with less and less activity. He must never had lost his looks, but after a while he couldn’t work. The shakes, you know? Claire said he would beg her to leave him, to find someone else, but she refused. My family, we are stubborn. And we like love. We love it. Get a Walsh to love you and you are set for life. If you like it or not.”

Nora was staring at nothing, so she did not see Loki rubbing the place on his chest just above his heart.

“Anyway, one day, sometime in the late 70s, he just disappeared. No one ever heard hide nor hair of him again. Sometimes, when she was on the painkillers towards the end, Claire would mutter about thinking he was in the lake. That he loved the water.” She looked at him, and then jumped up, looking uncomfortable.

“Sorry. Claire didn’t really think he killed himself. She used to say, when she wasn’t fucked up, that he, um, went to Canada. Was way up north in some mining town or something, where he could only get drunk when the supply trucks came in. He did not kill himself, ok? No one around here has ever been suicidal, ever. Got that?”

Loki nodded. Nora was clearly distressed about something, though he could not imagine what. Did she think he was especially concerned about a long lost drunkard, who was not even of his acquaintance?

A bit later he found her going through a drawer, specifically a stack of menus for defunct restaurants, weeping. Quietly he shrouded himself in shadow, so she would not notice him there, and watched her. After a few moments she wiped her eyes and got on with emptying the drawer. Then, near the bottom, she pulled out a large manilla envelop that she clearly didn’t recognize.

Whatever was in it caused her to call out in an unsteady voice, “I have to get something from the garage, I’ll be back in a few,” before running out the door to stand, sobbing, in her overgrown garden.

The envelope was filled with old report cards. Hers. Her aunt had drawn a large heart on the envelope.

Nora had clearly been quite a good student.

A half hour later Nora was back, carrying black coffee, and looking determined.

“I am going to have a party.”

“What?” Why was she so difficult for him to predict?

“There is a lot of good stuff here. Too much, so I am going to have a party. Everyone I can stand, any one Claire knew that are still around. Just tell people they can take anything that isn’t nailed down. Except the hi-fi, I am taking that. I can pack up what I will need to keep, and then get a lot of cheap beer and shitty wine and let everyone go to town.

“Oh, and chips. Maybe a pizza or five. Nothing special.”

Loki looked at her red eyes and admired her thinking. Nora would never be able to walk away from her past, but she would be able to give it away to anyone who might want or need a piece of it.

“That sounds fine. But allow me to supply the refreshments.” She looked up at him, clearly scared, “Don’t worry, I promise they will be terribly unimaginative, but edible. And drinkable. With your budget it would be all Rolling Rock, Two Buck Chuck, and Tombstone.”

Nora squinted at him, considering, but nodded, and then went upstairs to box books.

Loki waited until she was out of sight and then sent a text to the CDV survivors and alerted Charles they would be having guests for tea the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was unbeta'd, so any horrors are of my making.
> 
> Marina City is a real place in Chicago, another important architectural site, designed to be a city within the city - complete with shopping, bowling, and even ice skating at one point. As far as history tells us, nothing dreadful has happened there, except for it being a backdrop to a Nickleback video. Which is terrible enough.


	8. There’s Something Wrong With You

Nora felt that, all in all, it was a pretty successful party.

 

Early in the day caterers arrived, setting up coffee, pastries, and breakfast sandwiches made with bacon that could make the blind to see and lame beggars to walk. A bartender set up in the living room next to the windows and poured mimosas and Bloody Mary’s, and whiskey shots into proffered coffee cups.

 

Between nine and noon most of Claire’s remaining friends arrived, laughing at themselves and drinking more heavily than any of them probably had in years.

 

“Man, I never thought I would live long enough to be an early riser!” Bartholomew Kincaid, who used to play Alto with the Art Association of South Chicago, had been one of her aunt’s best friends.  He now lived in Joliet with one of his enormous number of grandchildren, in grand semi-retirement.  “Last time I saw the sunrise was from this side of it, and I got to say, I don’t like it.  No, no I do not like it At All.”  He snorted into a glass of gin and orange juice he had made for himself against the squawking objections of the little blonde bartender, who he had just shooed away with an absent hand.

 

“Yeah, if getting to see what people look like in the morning is my reward for not dying I kinda think I made a mistake. Because, whew, people be ugly before noon.”  Edna “Edie” Jones, who still sang with The Sidewalks at the New Orleans jazz fest every year, laughed at her own joke and slapped Kincaid on the arm. 

 

At some point the two of them, with the handful of other aging musicians, pulled a bunch of folding chairs out onto the porch, and in the cool grey morning started to play. Nora hadn’t even noticed that most of them had brought their instruments, but her aunt had always maintained that only drummers and piano players weren’t always carrying.

 

A few of the hipster who had started their invasion of the neighborhood stopped on the sidewalk to listen, nodding to themselves, proud to be living someplace so cool. A coolness they were driving out by their very presence.  Still, at least they could appreciate good music when they heard it.

 

Nora leaned in the doorway, listening to them play. “Any requests, Little Nora?”  Edie asked.

 

“Something romantic?” Came a soft, deep voice from over her head.  Loki-as-Magnus had walked up and was now standing close behind her. 

 

It took an effort to not mindlessly lean back against him.

 

“Baby, if I were twenty, hell no, look at you, ten years younger I would teach some things ‘bout romance you wouldn’t never forget. Except you Nora’s, so I would be a lady and not do it.”  Edie cracked herself up again, her tiny, dark body wracked with laughter.

 

“No, he’s no-“

 

But they had started to play Al Green’s Simply Beautiful.

 

Loki spun her around and pulled her close, “We should dance.”

 

“We shouldn’t.”

 

“Go on girl. Your aunt would say it isn’t a party if there’s no dancing.  Or bourbon,” Bartholomew said around his reed.

 

Nora stopped fighting and let Loki sway her slowly around the porch, her cheek on his lapel.

 

 

In the afternoon, the few neighborhood people came by, enjoying beer and mixed drinks, eating bite-sized snacks that were versions of larger foods. Tiny turkey sandwiches.  Miniscule servings of mac and cheese.  Espresso-cup sized cupcakes. 

 

“It’s about time you cleaned out this mausoleum, Nora,” said Marco’s wife Mercedes, eating her tenth serving of dainty lasagna. “Your aunt was a fine woman, but she wasn’t a saint.  No need to preserve this place like a shrine.”

 

As always, what Mercedes lacked in tactfulness she more than made up for with a very pure type of thoughtless meanness.

 

Marco groaned and snuck outside for a smoke, carrying a 60s wall-hanging of some stylized cats with him. Nora had no doubt he would hang it in his garage/hideaway, since Mercedes was afraid of any animal she couldn’t eat.  Especially cats.

 

Before Nora could retort, Loki appeared with a plate of what looked like … fish that had been drowned in bile and were now being served with the murder weapon as a garnish.

 

And it smelled like a war crime.

 

But Mercedes, who was entranced by Magnus’s face and Rolex gave him an expectant smile.

 

“Your pardon, ladies, but Nora, the Corcoran sisters had a question about the food processor? Or whatever that old thing with all of the blades is.”  He turned on his heel to Mercedes, holding the plate at her eye level and giving his most charming smile.  “Now, Mrs. Guzman, I have here a delicacy from my homeland, and I have been hoping to find just the right person to share it with…..”

 

Nora was very pleased to get rid of the old, dangerous meat slicer that her aunt picked up at a garage sale and neither of them had been brave enough to use. It would be a perfect prop for the Corcoran’s annual Halloween party.

 

She was even more pleased to see Mercedes practically running out of the house, her high-heels skidding on the wet sidewalk in her desperate need for her own bathroom.

 

From various bushes and walkways between the remaining houses, every stray cat in the neighborhood appeared, noses in the air, and ran after the now shrieking woman, entranced by the smell.

 

“Oh, yes, that should stop in a few days!” Loki called after her, and Nora smiled at him without thinking about it.

 

 

When the sun went down the drunks, reprobates, and everyone else that Nora considered a friend showed up for champagne, rare red wines, and a huge Korean and French buffet that took up all of the counter and table space in the kitchen.

 

Finally, Nora felt relaxed enough to have a drink or five herself, and every time her glass was empty a tall, surprisingly quiet figure would walk up with a refill.

 

Marissa was looking through the albums that Nora had decided to keep, trying to find, something other than, “this old shit.”

 

“Oh, this is Old School!” She crowed, “But not bad!” And she set the O’Jays spinning.

 

“Miss Gallego. So good to see you.  Have some Dom.”  Loki loomed over Marissa and waggled Magnus’s dark blonde eyebrows at her.

 

“You know it, papi,” Marissa took the champagne and smirked back at him.

 

He drifted back into the crowd.

 

Marissa sipped, “That man is into you. You must be like catnip for that family, first Eddie and now Mighty, Mighty Magnus.”

 

“He isn’t into me. And don’t you side-eye me, Miss Gallego, or I’ll side-eye your ass right back about Dre.”

 

“We’re just friends.”

 

“No one believes that.”

 

Which Marissa couldn’t refute because the man in question came up, grabbed her hand, and started what turned into a wave of dancing.

 

By two the house was mostly empty of people (save for the cleaning crew Loki had insisted on sending), and most of Claire’s ‘collection’ was gone. While there was enough furnishings left for the day she could get her own apartment, and her own things were safely tucked in her attic, Nora felt light for the first time in years. 

 

She sat on the back step and felt a pang, not for what was gone, but for the thought of no longer living here. The bungalow had been the only real, steady home she had ever know.  She snorted at the thought that an aging jazz singer with no regular employment had offered more stability than she had known otherwise.

 

When the crew finished she went up to bed, exhausted.

 

Sitting on her bed was a folder with a card envelope attached.

 

The card had a cartoon of an owl sitting snuggly in a tree. Inside was a simple note in Dre’s handwriting.  “Don’t even think about trying to give it back, bitch.”  And then the signatures of just about everyone she had worked with at CDV, excluding HR and some of the executives.

 

The folder held the fully paid deed to her house, a record of prepaid property taxes, and a balance sheet for a savings account from which future taxes would be paid.

 

 

 

The banging Loki’s bedroom door woke him from an especially salacious dream about Nora being stripped naked by both his female and male forms. They had just stretched her out between them and were about to divvy up the spoils when-

 

“Open up you Nordic Lunatic!” He heard Nora yelling, while Charles was murmuring urgently at her.

 

For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, but then he wiped his hands down his face, and shook himself like a dog.

 

“Charles! It’s fine.  Go make- a beverage!  A warm one!”  He pulled on his black cashmere robe and opened the door, feeling as if he had forgotten something. 

 

Nora had changed out of the dress she had worn at the party, and was standing there in a pair of blue pajamas covered in poodles, and a damp raincoat.

 

“Please tell me you didn’t ride your bike here at this time of night. Those are adorable, by the way.”

 

“Uber.” And then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, stretching on her toes.  Her lips on his skin, even in such an innocent place, was arousing.  He closed his eyes and savored the warmth of her breath, and its steady cadence.

 

Yes. He was still dreaming. 

 

“I know you had something to do with this, so I wanted to say thank- OH MY GOD!”

 

She had clearly become aware of his erection.

 

Nora actually backed up, wide-eyed, and holding the neck of her coat closed like a spinster librarian in an old film.

 

Loki bit his lips to keep from smiling. “I would deny it, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway.  I seem quite transparent to you.”

 

“Uhm, right, anyway,” still clearly stunned by the size of his interest in her, “I should go.”

 

She turned and started to walk quickly away, and then turned back, “I still plan on taking the job.”

 

“As you should.”

 

“Ok, then,” she turned away again, took a few steps and then slowly turned back yet again, her head cocked and her eyes drawn together in her more usual expression for him than the smile she had blessed him with seconds before.

 

She pointed at the open neck of his robe.

 

“Where the fuck is your fucking collar.”

 

Ah, yes, that was the forgotten thing…

 

“Let me explain…..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, un-beta'd, since my beloved beta has just started a new job. Going forward I will try and work out my schedule better with hers. Anyway, all the terrible mistakes are mine.


	9. Open Your Eyelids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the amazing and lovable Caffiend and Hurricanerin for their kind rec'ing of my stories. If you aren't reading their stuff then you are doing yourself a horrible disservice. Go read them now.

Loki lifted his hands in a gesture that he hoped appeared as half supplication, half placation, “Let me explain….”

 

Nora crossed her arms and blanked him. This was not the annoyance that she had sprinkled over him for the last few weeks.  This was full-bore rage.  He was used to causing that degree of anger, but he was unhappy to have it from Nora.  Her annoyance was charming and made her even funnier, her rage looked like it hurt.

 

Like it was hurting her.

 

“No. I don’t care.”

 

“You see, I- wait, what?”

 

 “Um…. Very well…” That was good, wasn’t it? Loki thought. 

 

“I am going. Have a rotten life.  Thanks for the house.”  Nora started to leave.

 

“Sorry, I have to insist on giving that explanation.” He lowered his hands and grabbed the cuff of her raincoat, “But first.”  He pulled her into the bedroom after him.

 

“What the actual fuck!” Nora shook his hand off, and then froze. 

 

Loki found the torc where he had left it next to his bath and fitted back on, tossing his hair free. “Now, if you would please sit I –“

 

Nora was turning in circles, her mouth hanging open. “What the actual fuck?”  She whispered this time, taking in his chamber.

 

 

Loki’s bedroom was….

 

Nora went through the thesaurus in her head.

 

Stunning?

 

Astonishing?

 

Seductive?

 

Magnificent?

 

Intimidating?

 

All of the above?

 

From the floor-to-ceiling windows draped in silk brocade tapestries instead of curtains, to the enormous fireplace where smoldering logs gave off soft and fragrant smoke, to the preposterously large bed covered in velvet, furs, and dozens of pillows, to the bookcases filled to bursting.

 

To the giant bathtub – no, the giant, polished, wooden bathtub that allowed the bather to look out on the lake.

 

And underfoot, literal piles of Persian rugs.

 

It was the most decadent, opulent, simply beautiful room Nora could imagine.

 

“I can’t say I haven’t seen that expression in my bedchamber before, but never because of the furnishings.” She heard Loki say, his voice soft and a bit amused.  She watching him shake his head to loosen a cloud of hair from under the torc, which then settled over his shoulders to gleam like ink.

 

He was just like the room, too desirable and just too much.

 

“Ok, so tell me. Explain.”  She needed to be mad again, distracted from how much she just wanted to sink down into those carpets and take a nap.  The last few days had been exhausting, with too much liquor and food and not enough sleep.  And the whole room was warm and inviting in every way.

 

“Well, it isn’t really something to be worked up about. The truth is that it is terribly uncomfortable to sleep in so I –“

 

She nodded and then moved to leave.

 

Loki dodged in front of her, his back pressing against the door. “I was able to get it off two days after you agreed to be my ‘babysitter.’  It wasn’t easy, but I have been escaping from my father’s,” he stopped, “from Odin’s attempts to curtail my freedoms for over a thousand years.  I know how his mind works.

 

“Besides, since I would be wearing it so much of the time I wanted to make some alterations to it.”

 

“Like disarming it.” Nora’s kept her voice flat.

 

“No! It works just as it did when you first –“

 

“Bug zapped you?”

 

“Not how I would style it, but yes. I wanted to augment it.“ Loki opened his mouth and then closed it, making a frustrated gesture with his hands.  “I wish you possessed the slightest amount of enchantment, that there was anything magical about you this would be vastly simpler to explain.”

 

“Yup, too bad I am such a plebe.” She muttered.

 

“Well, yes. Although Odin freed my power to use illusions and shapeshifting he still wished to curtail my other magicks, which is the other thing the collar does.  I needed to take the collar off to be able to use those powers, but more importantly, to use the collar to protect myself when I am Magnus.”

 

“From what?”

 

Loki gave a dry, ratcheting laugh. “Everything.  Magnus is like Eddie-“

 

Nora gave him a shove, which just caused her feet to scoot back on the rugs, while not moving him at all, “Fuck you.”

 

Loki grabbed her hands from his chest, and held them. He moved so they were separated by just a few inches and she found it was harder to not look into his eyes that it was to look away.  Nora hated that she wanted to free her hand and then touch his face.

 

“Magnus is like Eddie in that when I am him I am human. Vulnerable in all of the ways humans are.  And when I am wearing the torc I have no access to my magic to protect myself, so I have turned the torc into a form of protection.”  He spoke in little more than a whisper, and she could feel his breath on her face.

 

“From what?” Damn.  She was whispering, too. 

 

He still held her hands, and his left thumb circled against her palm, while the finger of his right traced over the tips of her fingers. It was so sweet.  His fingers were just the slightest bit rough.  She should pull her hands free.

 

She didn’t.

 

“Everything. Heat.  Cold.  Illness.  Most physical violence.  It doesn’t give me the full range of my gifts as an either Asgardian or Jo-, magician, but it is more than enough to keep me alive under normal circumstance.  You humans are so delicate.”  He let the last world trail off into a smile.

 

Nora finally gathered enough composure to free her hands. She pulled harder than she need to, since he was barely holding her at all, and Loki laughed as her arms flew back.

 

“Ha, ha, I know, delicate AND clumsy. Ass.  So why not just use an illusion to be Magnus?  Why the shapeshift if you hate being a human so much?  Ass.”

 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. They have technology now that allows them to detect Asgardian life signs.  While I am sure whatever Stark created for them is crude and rudimentary at best I prefer to not risk it.  I am safe enough in this building, your house, and my car, I have seen to that, but outside it is best I am a ‘mere’ the rest of the time.”

 

“Mere?”

 

“Mortal.” What had been a soft smile turned into a hard smirk.

 

“Did I mention you are an ass? And what did you do to my house!?”  Now Nora was furious again.

 

“I promise I damaged it in no way. And even if I explained my actions would they mean anything to you?”  Smirk, smirk, smirk.

 

“No. Horse’s ass.”

 

“Is that better or worse than purely being an ass?”

 

“One is an entire animal, and the other is the part of an animal that shits and attracts flies, so you decide.”

 

Loki laughed again.

 

He had a very dirty laugh, and Nora wanted it to stop.

 

“So basically you have been teasing me with that thing for weeks now and it doesn’t work.” She tried to get back on point.

 

“I can assure you that it works quite well.” As he did at the wake for Eddie he bared his throat to her, idly fingering the brass around his neck.  “You are more than welcome to test it.  I have earned that much, not being honest with you.  What a bad, bad boy I am.”  His voice grew lower and lower.

 

She wanted him to stop doing that. She wanted him to never stop doing that.

 

“Afraid, treasure? Don’t worry, I can take it.”  He moved closer again, still stroking the torc, making her step back.

 

Nora kept stepping back and reached into her pocket, pulling out the small controller.

 

Loki gave her a knowing smile. “I know you want to.  It will feel good to get a little revenge on me, won’t it?  Believe me, I understand.  No one better than I.  To hurt you enemy, have him at your feet, it is – GAH!”

 

Nora, who had played in the South Side Little League as a pitcher for four years, took her stance, wound up, and caught Loki straight in his perfect, snooty snoot.

 

“Did that hurt good enough for you?” She asked in her most innocent voice while batting her eyelashes.  “I hate to disappoint you, but that is the only hurt you will be feeling from that thing.”

 

“What?” He held his nose and looked horrified.  “Why?”

 

Nora leaned over and picked the controller up, tossing it into the air and catching it behind her back. “Listen.”

 

She shook it, and there was the faintest tinkle of glass and metal.

 

“That is not possible!”

 

“You can break anything if you ask the right workman and he has a Big. Enough.  Hammer.” 

 

Incredulous realization crossed Loki’s suddenly ashen face. “No.”

 

“Remember back when I agreed to hold your leash, and you said something about how it must have been the begging on your knees that changed my mind? Well, you were nearly right, except it wasn’t your begging, or your knees, that did it.”

 

“Thor….”

 

“Ding ding ding! It must be nice to have someone that loves you so much, cares about you so much, that he would actually get down in his knees, in a crappy yard on the south side, in front of a stranger, to beg for his little brother.  In spite of everything you have done.  I can only imagine how nice that must be.”

 

“So you did it for Thor? Of course you did.”  Loki gave a bitter laugh and walked to the fireplace to stare at the flames.

 

“No, I did it for me, McBroody. Because I am too much of a bleeding heart to send you to that place, the Isle of Silence, and because I thought I would like to meet the person that your _brother_ was willing to beg for.  Who he told me stories about.  He seems like someone I would like to know. And because maybe I could see a little of my friend Eddie in those stories, even if I didn’t want to.  Just like him you are pain in the ass, but what else is new?”

 

For a long time Loki looked at the fire in Byronic splendor, and then looked up at her with a tender smile, “So, in your collocation, it is better to be a horse’s ass or a pain in the ass?”

 

She wanted to ask him to say ‘collocation’ again, but slower….

 

Nora walked over to the bed. The head and footboards were made of some type of burnished metal that was curved and enameled like Celtic knotwork.  She traced her fingers around a spiral as she sat down where the blankets were thrown back.  She could make out how Loki had been sprawled before she had woken him. 

 

Leaning back on the pile of pillows, she raised an eyebrow, “I have to admit, I kind of assumed you might have Kelsey here.”

 

He frowned, “Why?”

 

“If you were fucking her as Eddie why wouldn’t you be – Aw, fuck, I’m sorry!” She jumped up.  “My coat is soaked, your mattress is now, too!”

 

“I cannot believe I have allowed you to spend all of this time in those damp things. And your shoes.  You could become ill.”  Loki hustled her over to the fire, while stripping her coat off.  Then he went to one of the enormous trunks that he seemed to keep his clothes in and started throwing things at her.  “Put these on.”   He then grabbed a towel and over her protests used it to, more quickly than seemed reasonable, to roughly dry her hair, which she was sure was now a crazy mess around her head.

 

He pointed to the pile of incredibly soft clothing on her lap. “Change,” he ordered, “I am going to fetch Lipton’s and aspirin.  You will be in dry things and have your feet close to that fire when I return.”

 

“Or?”

 

“You will wish you hadn’t asked my brother to smash that controller.”

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Gifts Both Choice and Many

Loki was disgusted to find that there was no Lipton’s in his larder. He called Mr. Choe to ask him where was the best place to obtain some, but the old man, annoyed at being called before dawn, suggested it could be found in deep in a part of Magnus’ anatomy.  Charles offered the hot chocolate that had been made already, but it seemed an improper substitution.

 

Mrs. Beekman eventually persuaded Loki that any black tea would do. When he told her to make a large cup of the Black Fragrance that he had enjoyed the day before, and to liberally dose it with milk and honey, the woman blanched.

 

“But, Mr. Magnussen, it’s over $200.00 a pound, it’s meant to be drunk as it is.” Her Devon accent was almost a screech of anguish at the thought of damaging such a rare and sacred beverage.

 

“Miss Walsh needs anti-oxidants as well as something to ward off throat pain. This will do,” he tossed the precious box over his shoulder as he took long strides out of the kitchen, “Where do we keep the aspirin?”

 

“The bathroom near the front entrance….I’ll put the kettle on. Or should I just chuck the cup in the microwave?”  Mrs. Beekman may have sobbed at that point, but Loki genuinely didn’t care.  He was far too busy being furious with himself. 

 

When Nora had embraced him he had known she was wearing damp things, but he had ignored her peril in his need to excuse himself to her.

 

After what seemed like an interminable length of time Mrs. Beekman had a tray prepared with a pot of tea and the milk and honey he had required. As a British woman she couldn’t force herself to adulterate the cup herself, but her employer could please himself.  She also put a bottle of Kilbeggen on the tray.

 

Loki cocked an eyebrow at her.

 

“She an Irishwoman, so she’ll be wanting that if she’s feeling poorly.”

 

As he stepped into his bedroom he took the torc off and was himself again.

 

Nora stood up from where she had been sitting near the fire. She had listened to him, because she was wearing his garments.  The heavy, green silk tunic sleeves had been turned back to her elbows and neckline hung dangerously/delightfully low on her chest.   The black cashmere leggings were hilariously long, but he could just see the tips of her small, pale toes.  With her short, tousled hair and cheeks flushed from the fire the effect was at once innocent and luscious.

 

His hands were trembling very, very slightly. When was the last time any creature had had such an effect on him?  Oh, yes, never. 

 

“I would say I feel ridiculous, but I have never been so comfortable in my life. You may never get me out of these.”  She said, holding up an arm to flap the too-long sleeve at him.

 

“I should hate that above all things. Sit.”

 

She threw him a salute and then sank down into the leather wingback chair that he liked to read in, “Man, you tell a god you can’t hit him with a rolled up newspaper anymore and he gets all bossy on a girl. I am not going to get sick.  I never get my annual cold until November.”

 

Loki stopped in the midst of preparing a cup for her. “Annual?”

 

“I pretty much get a cold at the beginning of the winter every year, and a one or two day flu near the end. It isn’t that unusual.  Just because Eddie was a big baby from having a little cold doesn’t make it the end of the world.  I just take a bunch of stuff and go to work.”

 

“Drink this.” He said, hearing the horror in his own voice.  She took a few sips and then reached over and added a splash more whiskey, “Influenza?  You have influenza every year?  And you go to work?”  Suddenly the thought of Nora living on her own, blithely ignoring her health and well-being, going up and down those steep stairs to her bedchamber, walking that undead beast of hers late at night alone, all rose up in a wave of horror over him.

 

And he had been the one to ensure she would remain there, alone and in constant danger, instead of here and safe with him.

 

“I never wasted a sick day on being sick in my life.” She took a sip and made an appreciative sound.

“The influenza killed tens of millions of people on this planet less than one hundred years ago!”

 

Nora snorted and laughed at him, “Everyone gets the flu, you freak. And colds.”  She yawned, stretching her arms in the air.  The long sleeves slid back.  Loki had seen her arms many times, but something about the sight of them in his tunic, by the firelight, made something ache in him.  “Man I am stiff.  I really need a new mattress, now that I’m not moving.”

 

Loki refilled her cup with extra whiskey and, while she was distracted taking the aspirin, he passed a hand casually over it. “Here, have some more.”  He placed the drink in her hand, “I have been thinking, tomorrow, later today actually, I should start showing you what exactly I do business-wise.  Since you will be one of my functionaries.”

 

“Employee. Functionaries work for the government.  Which you aren’t on this planet.”  She yawned again, “Ok, I am going to the bathroom, and you need to call me a cab or something.”

 

“Of course.” He quietly stood up and walked behind her as she unsteadily made her way to the necessary room. Just as he was beginning to worry, she finally came out, took two steps, swayed and slowly closed her eyes, falling asleep standing up. 

 

Ignoring his impulses for a novel change, Loki did not put her in his bed, but instead put her in the chair while he made her a nest from the best of his pillows and furs. He did indulge himself in a sickeningly jejune bit of hair stroking before going to his library for the remainder of the night.  Sleeping in the same room as his treasure would be even beyond his penchant for masochism.

 

 

Loki was beginning to worry. Nora had been sleeping for quite a while. 

 

A long while.

 

Over a day.

 

It was four in the morning on Monday when he finally went to check on her himself. Of course he had had Mrs. Beekman poke her head in a few (dozen) times, but her continual report of, “The poor dear is fine, sleeping away.  She must have been terribly peaky,” no longer seemed reasonable.

 

Quietly he opened the door and padded to the pile near the fireplace.

 

At some point Nora had gone from being too cold to too warm. She had shoved aside the throws he had wrapped her in, which was fine, and had wormed her way out of the leggings, so now she lay there with his tunic barely covering her torso and giving him a delightful view of her long legs and sweet, full –

 

No, this was exactly the kind of thing he needed to avoid. If Nora were to believe he had taken any advantage of her while she was under his bewitchment she would take it amiss. 

 

Loki turned away, glad that no one could see his lunge at the door.

 

Unfortunately for his rough stab at decency, it seemed that Nora was still overheated, and that his presence had, if not woken her, then lightened her sleep. He heard her murmur, “warm,” and start to push at the tunic, arching her back as she tried to wiggle free of the silk.

 

Surely even Nora would understand that there were temptations and then there were temptations?

 

Yes?

 

Surely?

 

No.

 

Loki dropped his head and shoulders. Would his chastisements never cease?

 

“Shhhh,” he knelt next to her, “Shhh, darling girl, sleep.” Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and she gleamed with it in the firelight.  A part of him, his favorite part actually, became even more fascinated.  He inhaled deeply, both for the pleasure of her scent and to try and ground himself. 

 

If she was this warm perhaps she was actually ill and not merely in danger of being so. Still, he smelled no corruption coming from her, so perhaps it was not too serious.  Telling himself it was just to check on her temperature, Loki placed his hand on her brow, softly stroking her hair out of the way.

 

And, because this wasn’t excruciating enough, she turned her head and gently nuzzled into his hand and wrist. Sighing.

 

Actually sighing.

 

Mentally Loki cursed in fourteen human languages, seven obscure dialects from the outer realms, a forgotten thieves’ cant, wolves’ howls, ravens’ caws, and Enochian. He stopped when it occurred to him if he kept going he may end up summoning a greater demon, which might disturb Nora’s rest.

 

She was very warm, but probably not dangerously so. He needed to cool her down.

 

There was a quick and simple way to do so that wouldn’t wake her, but Loki was loathe to do it.   No, more correctly, he loathed that he could do it, but looking at Nora’s flushed face he swallowed his emotional gorge and lifted his hand a few inches from her head.

 

It made his heart feel….something…when she made a sound of upset at his touch moving from her.

 

Carefully and slowly he transformed his left hand to its Jotun essence. With sheer will Loki reigned in the alteration so it moved no further than his wrist.  With equal care he traced air above Nora, from the top her head to the soles of her feet, certain not to touch her, lest he ‘burn’ her to a black and frozen statue.

 

At least his disgust with his own alteration had dampened his ardor.

 

When she rolled away from the cold, pulling a fur cover with her, he left, seeking a shower in one of the guest rooms.

 

 

Nora woke up very suddenly. One second she was deeply asleep, the next she was sitting up, wide awake. 

 

Sitting up, wide awake, where?

 

She looked around.

 

Sitting up, wide away, in a pile of velvet and furs, in front of a fire, in Loki’s bedroom.

 

That had to be bad. Didn’t it? 

 

Then why did she feel fantastic? Nora couldn’t remember when last she had felt like she had slept enough.  Like some part of her back or the scarred place behind her ear didn’t hurt.  Like a dozen little things, all too little for her to consciously recognize, that had been wrong with her, didn’t feel wrong now.

 

Like she felt safe.

 

Safe, and in desperate need of the bathroom and a shower.

 

Then she remembered the last bit of exchange she had had with Loki and growled. Disentangling herself from the covers she started out of the room to confront him, realized she wasn’t wearing pants, found the pants in the blankets, and was just pulling them on when the bastard in question let himself in the room.

 

“I would ask if you were decent, but sadly you always are.”

 

“You did something to me! Some magic or something!  Don’t deny it!”

 

Loki stopped just inside the closed door, lounging against it. “Well,” he bit his lower lip and considered, “I don’t see why I would.  Here.”  He tossed a pile of clothing onto a side table, “You need to eat, but I am guessing that you will want to bathe first.  You could use it.”

 

Nora seethed. “What did you do to me?  And how do I sue you for it?”

 

He laughed, “I like where your head is. All I did was I suggested to the leaves of the tea, to the malt in the whiskey, to the honey and the water, that you needed to rest.  That you deserved to rest.  They and your body worked out how long.  I had no idea you were so very, very tired my treasure, and had been for so long.”  Loki’s voice was soft and kind, and as much as Nora wanted her anger she found it wasn’t there.  Or maybe it was still there, just not as close.

 

“Um. Ok.  You don’t have any right – just because I can’t do anything to you any longer-“

 

“I do not apologize. It shocks me to find I desire your well-being more than your approbation.  Or your moans of pleasure.”

 

Nora had absolutely nothing to say to that.

 

“Now, as your employer I am willing to overlook your sleeping through your first day of work-“

 

“Jesus! What time is it?  What day is it?”  Nora ran to look out the window.  The lake was nearly dark.

 

“Nearly six. On Monday.  As I was saying, I will overlook your tardiness this time,” Nora had an abrupt and very arousing image of Loki as a stern and disappointed Classics professor, “but I want you dressed, fed, and ready to leave by, shall we say eight?”

 

“Where are we going? Crap, Django!”

 

“Observe.” Loki gestured to the elegant leather chair near the fire.  Django was curled upon it, sleeping or practicing being dead.  “You may take the chair home with you.  I will never that… that being’s odor out.  Also, there are a pair of my slippers that he committed a sexual enormity upon.  They were my favorites.”

 

“Sorry,” Nora snorted and tried not to laugh, failing. “Where are we going, Boss?”

 

Loki seemed to like being called that. He actually preened a bit.  “As I said almost two days ago, it is time you learned what the bulk of my consultancy really consists of.  So we will be heading to the Goblin Market.”

 

“We are going to a Christina Rossetti poem?”

 

“We are going to where people buy and sell magic.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. No Place for Beginners

“We’re going to Maxwell Street? You are going to Maxwell Street?  Dressed like that?”  Nora stared at Loki, wondering if he might actually be as crazy as everyone thought he was.

 

His driver, a handsome Costa Rican man named Nigel, snorted in agreement.

 

Loki rolled the window up between the front and back of the car. “What is wrong with how I am dressed?  I thought this suit was rather tolerable, for Midgardian attire.”  He looked down and brushed an invisible speck from his waistcoat, and then checked that his tie-tack was perfectly straight.  The wool was charcoal and matched the rims on Magnus’s blocky, 60s-inspired glasses, and the hunter green silk tie set off the auburn of Magnus’s wavy hair.  She didn’t even want to contemplate his gleaming Oxfords or the brass knobbed walking stick leaning on his thigh.

 

Nora tried to decide if her desire to muss Magnus was a separate issue from her lust for Loki.

 

Then she decided that, no matter what else, she had probably had too much sleep.

 

“I think you look quite nice, by the way,” he muttered.

 

“Of course you do, you picked my clothes.”

 

He frowned, “But you approve, yes?”

 

To Nora’s surprise she did approve. When she had reluctantly left Loki’s lavish and apparently never used shower she had contemplated the waiting pile of clothing with some nervousness.  She had half expected a ball gown or maybe a Chanel suit, something cripplingly expensive and utterly wrong for her.  Instead there had been a pair of perfectly soft, dark jeans, a crisp white blouse, a black merino sweater, some simple undergarments, warm argyle socks, and a pair of yellow and brown ankle boots.

 

Exactly the things she would have purchased for herself. If she had several thousand dollars to spend on jeans and a sweater.

 

“Shockingly so. Not what I would expect you to pick for me.”

 

“It isn’t.” Well, that ended that.  “But yes, Maxwell St.  I thought it would have some appeal for you, but you seem displeased.”

 

“It isn’t real any more. It isn’t even on Maxwell St.  The only real thing left are the Original and Jim’s.  Oh, I am getting a pork chop sandwich.”

 

“Considering that you rarely breathed while filling yourself repeatedly over dinner I am astonished you can even contemplate food.”

 

“Four that time,” she sang out. Actually sang.  She had had FAR too much sleep.  She was giddy with energy.

 

He turned in to face her, frowning. “Four what?”

 

“For about every three or four nice things you say to me you say one rude if not outright insulting thing. I am trying to figure out if you do it to everyone or _just_ me.”

 

“I do not-“

 

She talked over him, making a variety of hand gestures, “I am pretty sure it’s just me. And then I can’t be sure if you even know you are doing it.”

 

“Nora, I-“

 

“I think you don’t, or you don’t _remember_ that you are doing it.  It’s a defense mechanism, isn’t it?  You want me to like you, really like you, for some reason, but then you want to test me, too.  If I like you when you are jerk, and not just when you are being sweet, then I must _really_ like you.   Right?”  She cocked her head at him. Why was she saying all of this out loud?  Had that hocus pocus he had done to her earlier broken her filter?

 

Loki stared at her, with Magnus’s face, his expression blank but for a crease between his eyes. She wished she could see his actual eyes, his real mouth, not just these ones that were so tantalizingly similar but made her ability to read him elusive.  She wanted to know what he was thinking badly enough to taste it. 

 

Finally, he said, “You are sleep drunk. And we are here.  Remember what I told you over dinner, you will follow all of my instructions to the very letter.  We will get you a pork chop _after_ business.”

 

“Jawohl, sir.” He made a grumping noise at her, and did not turn to offer her his hand to get out.

“This is truly magical. I have to admit it.”  Nora made a sweeping gesture with her arm.

 

What had once been Chicago’s best, ugliest, shadiest, most chaotic, most beloved open air market, home to Jewish haberdashers, African-American blues musicians, Polish sausage vendors, and dealers in the new, the used, and the creatively acquired, selling all things sellable, from athletic socks to race-car tires to cases of mini-soaps from defunct motel chains, was now a residential/commercial part of the University of Illinois campus. All built in the last few years, all of which would have looked perfectly at home anywhere in Du Page County.

 

 

“So let me guess. It’s behind the Caribou Coffee?  I hope so, I could use a mocha.  No, it’s underneath the Jamba Juice?  The backroom of Bar Louie?  I hope not, I hate Bar Louie.  No, the place that sells UIC Flames shirts and hats is secretly a bazaar of untold –“

 

Now visibly annoyed, Loki yanked her by the upper arm towards the parking garage that dead-ended the short street.

 

Because of the late hour there were few people on Halsted, and no one on Maxwell. Their shoes made unnaturally loud clicks as they walked down the ‘quaint’ bricks that the university had covered the street in. 

 

Rather than entering the massive archway of the too pretty parking structure, Loki turned them to what looked like a service entrance next to building’s elevator. The grey metal door was untouched by graffiti, or even scratched in profanity. 

 

Nora hated this neighborhood.

 

“You are about to get your first lesson in the Invisible World.” Loki said.  Not looking at her, he slid his hand down from her upper-arm to her left hand, which he then pressed around the handle to the door.  He whispered something in a language that sounded like Latin and Thai having angry sex.  The handle trembled in her grip and then turned.

 

“You now have the freedom of the market as my factotum. But you will Never.  Ever.  Come here without me.  Is that clear?”

 

Nora put her free hand to her heart, “I solemnly swear to never, ever come to this parking garage without you. Why stop there?  I won’t come anywhere near University Village without you.  How about that?”

 

Loki sadly sighed, and in an unguarded gesture, leaned his head against her hair for a moment, “Yes, lovely. Shall we go in now?”

 

Inside was a different elevator from the one that serviced the garage. This was a brass cage like something from the Edwardian era or earlier, complete with an attendant, a stunningly lovely brunette dressed in a red uniform, complete with a little round hat.

 

“Mr. Rasmussen! So lovely to see you again.  And this must be Nora, just lovely as you described her.”  She slid open the door.

 

Nora shot Loki a look.

 

He smiled. Like a snake.

 

“Going down.” The attendant’s perky voice rang out, and they began to descend.

 

 

“OK, I take it all back and I am very, very sorry I doubted you for minute,” Nora said after an hour of walking through the Chicago Goblin Market.

 

It was like a tiny village more than a basement. The huge space was filled with vendors, some selling from elaborate booths and even small stores, some from blankets under actual trees that grew in the closed space, others walked, carrying their goods on trays or even inside their coats, rather like something from an old movie.  The air was rich with herbs and perfumed incense and the distinct and intoxicating odors of old books.  Music played from the center of the space where there were benches and you could order drinks and snacks. 

 

Nora was overjoyed the sound of a young black woman playing “Dirty Mother for You,” on an old guitar. Someone was still playing the blues on Maxwell Street.  Claire would cry.  And then correct her phrasing.

 

“Nora! Keep up.”  Loki had moved on while she stopped to drop a five in the girl’s guitar case. 

 

For the hour they had been here Loki had neither let her move more than a few feet from him, either pulling her back to his side or simply snapping at her, nor had he seemed to be doing any of this business he had been talking about. He had just strolled, nodding to various vendors who clearly knew him, but not stopping to speak or even really look at what any of them were selling.

 

And what were they selling? Nora wasn’t sure in most cases, certainly the herbs and books that she had smelled, as well as other more mundane items.

 

An unusual number of shoes, some elaborate, some worn things that clearly would stink if you leaned to close. Jewelry, especially rings.  Cloaks, but no coats.  Hats, but no caps.  Small cakes with silvery icing.  Sticks that had to be magicians’ wands.  Branches that had to be wizards’ staffs. 

 

Oddly-shaped things that she feared were sex toys.

 

The vendors were as varied as their merchandise, and more than a few of them were clearly not human. Once or twice Nora started to ask Loki about what a particularly odd creature was – the man who was also a tree, or the woman with green skin and no eyes – but before she could open her mouth he laid a finger on her lips.

 

“Shhhh, Miss Walsh, you are here to observe, not speak.”

 

The second time she bit him. His laugh told her that she should not consider that an effective deterrent.

 

He tasted good. Which was bad.

 

Finally, after strolling, and not talking, Nora had enough. “Ok, what are we doing?”

 

“You are getting the lay of the land. Adjusting to the fact that your world is not what you thought it was,” he gestured towards where a young girl was selling what seemed to be a kitten-sized sabretooth tiger to a man who looked like a demon.

 

“I figured that out after New York,” she said, thoughtlessly.

 

They both became very quiet and still for a moment, which then passed.

 

“I, on the other hand, am observing the results of my good work. The proprietors of the market are amongst my most valuable clients.  Until a month ago there was a great deal of …. Infighting let us say …between the vendors.  Disruptions in commerce, a few deaths even, but now look at it.  Peace and contentment, and relatively little theft.” 

 

And with the last word he spun on his heel, dropping his shoulder, striking a running shoplifter hard across the shinbones.

 

The twirl, the swing, the crack.

 

Nora remembered the video. Everyone had seen it.  It had gone viral in minutes and nearly broke the Internet.

 

Stuttgart.

 

Magnus’s warm coloring and human frailty or not, the body language, the grace, the brutality were all the same.

 

Loki lightly put a foot on the man’s back, holding him for the black-uniformed security guards that were appearing from the air around them. “Keep your head down, churl,” he thrust the tip of the stick on the back of the man’s head, making him eat dust.  “Nora?”  He looked at her concerned.  “Is something amiss?  I assure he will be fine, but-“

 

She ran.

 

She knew she couldn’t lose him for long, but she just needed to get away from him for a few minutes.

 

When Nora was sure she had dodged through enough stalls and turned enough corners she stopped, breathing heavily. She didn’t really know what had set her off.  It wasn’t as if she ever forgot what he had done, but it had been dulled in her mind by who he was.  Or who he was maybe pretending to be for her benefit.  For his own benefit, actually. 

 

Even now Nora knew she wasn’t running from him in horror, she was running from the horror of knowing she wasn’t afraid of him any longer. That she hadn’t been for a long time, and that maybe her lust and the fondness for him she was constantly battling with was actually –

 

“Buy something, Miss? Not that one like you needs anything I have, but perhaps a trinket, souvenir of your visit to the Market?”

 

The alley she was walking down had fewer stalls, and was a bit darker than the rest of the market. The woman was very old, so old it was hard to say what race she was, or if she were even human, but her voice was melodic and soft.  “No, I don’t think so.  I doubt I have any currency you would want.”

 

But, in spite of herself, Nora drifted closer to the table the woman stood behind. Just so she could see.  It was much darker here than she realized.  Most of what was selling appeared to be miniatures.  Tiny furniture, perfect little animals, elaborate carvings of everything imaginable. 

 

Nora found her hands moving amongst the toys, touching here and there. Remarkable.  She leaned closer, wanting something, not finding it.

 

“You are a singer, yes? Musical, at least.  Maybe this?”  The woman showed her a silver piano that could fit in her hand.

 

“No.” Nora felt agitated, _it_ had to be here.

 

“This, then.” A petite record player, with an album spinning on it and playing. It was her aunt singing.  Lovely, but wrong.

 

Item after item was wrong, and Nora grew more upset. It had to be here.  Somewhere.  She touched everything.  A car.  No.  A cabin with a pine tree.  No.  An elegantly posed cat.  A bookcase with books that could be removed.  A coffee service.  No. No. No.

 

“You don’t have anything for me. I want something!”  Nora heard how desperate her own voice sounded and felt like crying.  There had to be something for her.

 

“Well, there is this.” The woman held something in her cupped hands, one over the other like a clam’s shell.  She parted her fingers just a bit, and Nora could see something…yes, that was it!  That was what she was looking for, and she had to have it.

 

“Yes! I want it.”  She reached for it, like a child who had been denied cake.  Always.

 

“No, no, Nora, we haven’t come to terms.” The old woman pulled her hands back.

 

“You can have anything you want.” Now Nora was tearing up with frustration.  She had to have it.

 

“Since you want it so badly. You do, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Nora shouted, lunging at the woman’s hands.

 

“Very well. It is yours, but all I need is … hm… just a bit of you, dear.  A bit of blood, a bit of hair, a few tears.  The tears are already in your eyes,” the woman reached out a trembling hand to brush moisture from Nora’s cheek.

 

“Touch her, strigoi, and I will cut every part of you away from every other part of you and bury them across the realms.”

 

Magnus was leaning against the wall of the stall, looking at his nails, uninterested in his own threat.

“You would not dare –“

 

He looked up at the stall holder and smiled, turning into himself. “I would not?  That doesn’t seem like me at all.”

 

The old woman dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to him, “Forgive me, guð, I did not know she belonged to you.”

 

“Loki,” Nora plucked at his sleeve, “Loki, she has something I need-“

 

“She doesn’t belong to me, þræll. She is _dear_ to me.”  The woman moaned in terror.

 

“Here, here,” the woman made a motion towards Nora, and suddenly she felt like herself again.

 

“Jesus.”

 

“No, Loki.”

 

“You are hilarious.”

 

 

A while later Loki and Nora walked slowly together down Halsted, his car following at a discreet distance.

 

She had been quite right.   The pork chop sandwich was remarkably delicious, and Loki was on his fourth while she sipped a bottle of water.

 

“Sorry, about being an idiot back there. With the watchamcallit, and running away.  It just, when you hit that thief.”  She trailed off and he looked at her bowed head.

 

“I know what it was about. I am sorry you were not safe, and I wish you had not run, but I do not blame you.  I am a monster.  We both know it, but sometimes when I wear this face it must be hard to remember.”

 

“Not just that face. And anyway, I don’t think you are a monster.  Ah,” she raised a hand to stop him from objecting, “There are plenty of humans who have done horrible, horrible things, so that doesn’t make you a monster.”

 

“No, my being a Jotun makes me so.”

 

“You know that doesn’t mean anything to me. I mean that literally.  I have no idea what it means, and I don’t care.  Now if you told me you were a Randian objectivist then maybe I would agree to this monster business, but no, not otherwise.  Did you get to finish your business?”

 

They strolled again, almost in Greektown. Loki wondered if Artopolis was open so late, he could eat a few pastries….

 

“Yes, it was very satisfactory. The purveyors of the largest Goblin Market in this country were deeply impressed and would like my thoughts on their venture.  I shall be flying to New Orleans on the 30th-“

 

Nora stopped dead, dropping her water. “New Orleans?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Louisiana?”

 

“I am of the impression that is the one there is, in fact, the only one.” She grabbed his hands, also knocking his pork chop to the ground, “Hey!”

 

“You have to take me with you!”

 

“Um, what?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a New(ish) Maxwell Street. It is fine, if you never went to the original.
> 
> I fear I may be a little clothing obsessed today, due to SOMEONE'S Gucci spread.


	12. I Could Fly If I Could Only Fly

For the next week and a half Nora was a perfect employee. Prompt, efficient, and quick to learn.  She would arrive at exactly 8:50, and by 9 would be sitting at the desk Loki had set up for her in his home office, coffee cup at her elbow, slightly too red lipstick in place.  At noon she would leave the apartment and go up to the roof to huddle under her coat in the unusually cool fall weather and eat a sandwich.  At five she left, with a pleasant goodbye.

 

In between she worked. She handled calls for Loki, figured out the esoterica of billing supernatural creatures, and made herself useful in a hundred ways that made his already successful venture even more successful, so he was swimming in power, profits, and influence.

 

She was quickly a great favorite amongst many of his clients. The Hive Queen of the North Shore had even sent her a gift basket with a variety of unguents and perfumes. 

 

Loki had never had an “employee” as such before, but even if he had had hundreds Nora would no doubt be the pink of perfection of them all.

 

But work was all that Nora did.

 

There was no conversation, outside of what was needed for work. No funny stories about odd acquaintances on her commute, her irritation with her changing neighborhood, her old work friends.  She didn’t even talk about the cookies that Loki made certain Mrs. Beekman presented every day at three. 

 

As far as Loki could tell, never before had Nora met a confection that she had not made a pronouncement about.

 

Nothing.

 

After the first week of her pleasant, business-like manner Loki was ready to rave like a madman.

 

“So, any plans for this weekend?” He asked as Nora packed her bag on Friday afternoon.

 

“Nothing special.” She gave him a sunny, Nora-less smile.  “You?”

 

“I am trying to decide between attending Huehuecoyotl’s Tantric Ritual and Fiesta de Cumpleaños over in Pilsen, or just skipping the car ride and taking Kelsey and her cousin Chelsea across the street to the Royal Suite at the Four Seasons and spend the weekend bedding them.” Loki drawled in his lowest voice, his body loosely sprawled in his chair.

 

“Those both sound fun. See you Monday!”  She gave him a cheery wave and left.

 

The same cheery wave she used to give HR.

 

He stood and paced, smoothing his hands through his hair over and over again.

 

This was intolerable! Nora’s agreeable professionalism was amusing when directed at others, but unbearably like being slowly suffocated under a pile of plush toys with twinkling eyes when directed at oneself.

 

On Monday Nora found a large pile of folder on her desk, with a post-it note on top:

 

 

These are some of my more delicate clients.

Please make sure you contact all of them over the next two days. Back Wednesday.

-M

 

Ensconced his chambers, Loki used an ancient enchanted mirror spell to watch as Nora called Baba Yaga (who like all old women ADORED talking on the phone, and unlike most of them cursed the mouth of anyone who tried to cut her short with boils), the Piasa (who despite having transmographied into an Albanian short-order cook at Fast Eddie’s in Alton, still insisted in sharing with Nora a few of his favorite recipes for human kidneys), Hiram McDaniels (whose golden head was actually a charming conversationalist, but whose other four heads kept interrupting with various threats, whining, and mindless screaming), and Bruce Rauner.

 

Even Nora had limits to her artifice. She hung up on Rauner.

 

Loki had been waiting. He stormed out into the office and loomed over Nora’s desk, taking advantage of every inch of his height as she stared at him, frozen in the process of dialing Taylor Swift.

 

“Miss Walsh! Did you just hang up, no, did you just _slam_ the receiver down on one of the most loyal of my clients?  A man who will no doubt one day lead this grea- um, this state as its governor?”

 

He watched as she carefully put the phone down, trying not to make fists, and stood like a shot, head tilted back, so their faces were just inches apart. He could see her lips pulled back in rage, her breath coming hot and fast against his neck. 

 

Yes! She was going to castigate him into Christmas!

 

Then she took a step back and offered him an apologetic smile. “Oh, gosh, Lo-, Mag-, Sir,” he felt himself flinch, “I am soooooo sorry!  I don’t know what came over me.  I think I have a hand cramp from helping a group of Franciscan nuns walk their pack of Alsatians in the park this morning.  Should I call Mr. Rauner and apologize, or should it be in writing?”  Then she picked up the phone and held it out to him.  “Or maybe you would like to speak to him yourself?”

 

“Of course I don’t want to speak to Rauner. NO ONE wants to speak to that man.  I want to speak to you.  I want to fight with you!  Anything!  Anything but this cruel amiability.”

 

Nora sagged back into her chair. “It’s exhausting.  When I acted like this at CDV it was fun, but treating you this way is wearing me out.”

 

“Then stop.”

 

“You know how to make me stop.”

 

Now it was Loki’s turn to sag, leaning on one arm on her desk. “Very well.  If it is what you truly wish.”

 

“Yes!” Nora jumped up and kissed him on the cheek.  He couldn’t even enjoy it.  “I am going to get us some cookies and whiskey and you can tell me how you are going to do it.”

 

Loki fell into her empty chair, rubbing his face with both hands. This was a positive horror.  When Nora returned he took the glass of whiskey and rolled it between his hands.

 

“So, how is going to work? A potion?  Talisman?  I can’t believe I am having this conversation, by the way, like it’s nothing, but oh well.  A ritual?  Please tell me you aren’t going to hypnotize me, because that is both hokey and it kind of freaks me out because, well, you know.  It’s you.” 

 

When he had told Nora that he would be travelling to New Orleans she had insisted, no she had ordered him to take her with him. Whatever it took.  They had stood in the dark on Halsted, and she had grabbed his arms and looked at him with such hope.

 

“I love New Orleans. It is the first place I went with Claire.  We went every year for Jazzfest.  Every year.   I took a break from college to go build houses there after Katrina.  I have friends there I haven’t seen in years.  And I need to get out of here.  I love Chicago, love it, but it is turning into a tomb for me.”

 

“And it is my fault.”

 

“So fix it. Cast a spell on me.  Something.  But get me on a plane and get me there.”

 

“No. No, I cannot, I will not.”

 

“But-“

 

“There are counsellors.”

 

“No counselling is going to get me to NOLA in a few weeks. You have to do it.”

 

“No. You are best off neither testing my patience nor trying my will in this matter, Nora.  You are more than welcome to go anywhere I go, but do not ask me to – to – alter you.  I will not.”  He wanted to tell her the whole truth, that he simply did not trust himself with that kind of power over her.  That the unholy temptation that she already was to him, and his tenuous connection to decency, would surely fray under the pressure of it.  But he could not bring himself to say it.   It was too much honesty for him.

 

Loki laughed to himself. It had taken her two weeks to break him.

 

He drained the drink. “I have something in mind, but it will take more than a small amount of preparation.  Most like it will not be ripened and ready until the day of our departure.”

 

“What is it?” Nora perched on the desk next to him.  She looked so happy and eager.

 

“You will have to wait and see.” And so will I, he thought, biting a snickerdoodle in half in great distress.

 

 

Nora had never been on a private jet before. It looked so tiny and sleek.

 

Just the perfect size for her to run and bash her head into a bulkhead to knock herself out once she started panicking. It also wouldn’t be far for her to get to the head to vomit her internal organs out.  And all with the privacy of just Loki being there to horrify and embarrass.

 

She had not kept down any food or slept more than an hour or so at a time for the last few days. Her hands shook all of the time. 

 

Mrs. Beekman made her both bibimbop and soft clucking noises of concern. Marrisa and Dre took turns calling her, pretending they weren’t in the same room with each other.  Even Django acted like a dog for a change and rested his chin on her lap, looking up at her with soulful eyes.

 

Loki was beside himself with worry, which he showed by being irritable, rude, demanding, and constantly throwing blankets over her shoulders, while ordering Charles to bring her cups of tea.

 

Speaking of whom, Magnus was swaggering across the private hanger towards her now, having dealt with the last of their arrangements. He took off his camel’s hair coat and put it around her.  “I’m not cold.”

 

“Yet you shiver. Here,” he pulled a small flask from the coat pocket.  It was silver, chased in copper, “drink this.”

 

“Thank god!” She took it greedily in both hands, tossing the crystal stopper to the side, where Loki caught it, and drank the whole thing so quickly she was out of breath and gasping.  It tasted of green – herbs, grass, leaves, all on fire and doused in sugar water and stain remover. If she hadn’t felt so hopeless she would have spit it out.  “What is it?”

 

“Does it matter?” He cocked his head to the side, looking concerned.  “How do you feel?”

 

“Better.” She held out her hand for both of them to see.  They trembled just the smallest bit. 

 

He gestured for her to walk before him towards the plane. “Did I ever tell you the tale of when Thor and I first journeyed to Midgard in our youth?”

 

“Wait,” she touched his arm, “you just mentioned _him_ , in the most casual way possible.  You never talk about _him_ and now you want to tell me a story about the two of you?”

 

“Well, the story reflects rather poorly on _him_ …”

 

For the next two hours Loki told Nora the Saga of Loki and Thor and Largest Fish and the Smallest Boat on Midgard, followed, while she was still laughing, that reminded him of another story, and he told her the Saga of Loki and Sif’s Hair and Why Sif Was (Now) the Only Other Brunette On Asgard.

 

“Oh, no wonder she hates you!”

 

“Indeed. Of course, not as much as Amora.  The Enchantress?  Never fear, I will not allow her to ever be in your presence, treasure.”  Which started the Saga of Loki, Amora, Amora’s Baby Sister Lorelei the Thief, and Stealing of the Troll King’s Seven League Boots.

 

“So you left her there? That is perfect!  Is she still there?”

 

“Amora is nearly as hard to keep enchained as I am. She is somewhere in the Nine Realms taking other people’s belongings and ruining lives, I am certain.”

 

He looked out of the window. “Lake Pontchartrain.  Buckle back in, treasure.  We are starting to descend.”

 

Nora stepped down the stairs from the jet, breathing the soft, warm air of the delta, and felt … fine. Better than fine.  Normal.  Excited.  Happy.

 

“The car should be here soon,” Loki stood by her, “tonight we can go anywhere you wish. Or you are, of course, free to visit your compatriots.  But tomorrow is a work day.”

 

“Yes.” She looked up at him, “I can’t thank you enough.  What was that you gave me?”

 

“There is a little film I saw, of a woman teaching her child to ride a bicycle, by holding the back, and when the child was sufficiently distracted and pleased she let go, and the child rode beautifully, thinking itself safe. I gave you a distraction.”

 

“You-“

 

“And a few ounces of chartreuse with some drops of cannabis oil. If your muscles were any tenser you would have broken a bone.  You may strike me if you wish, I will even stay human and allow you to damage me if you like.”

 

Nora couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, I think one day you and I are going to talk each other to death, but today you may have talked me back to life.  Or part of it.  Thank you.” 

 

She threw her arms around him, he was solid, and smelled wonderful, and for the first time she just let herself enjoy it. And when she felt him tentatively stroke her hair she leaned in.

 

 


	13. I See That We Gon' Have to Go to a Quiet Corner for Just Us Two

“Well, it’s good to know that some things never change.” Nora said, as she, CiCi, and Amanda Jane piled into a taxi. “Damn, that was fun.” They were all dripping sweat from dancing, and hoarse from shouting. She heard AJ tell the driver to take them to The Avenue on St. Charles. 

AJ’s sister worked there as a bartender, and they could there drink for tips. “Are you sticking with water? ‘Cause I thought the waitress at Bullet’s was like to pass out when you ordered. Who goes to Bullet’s and doesn’t drink? On Tuesday? When Kermit’s playing? Crazy people only.” AJ had a full-bore NOLA, ‘yat’ accent, making her sound more like she was from Brooklyn than the South. 

“If Kermit is playing I don’t need to drink. And I told you, I took something for my anxiety on the plane and I didn’t think I should drink anything with it. But I might have a beer if it’s free.” Although with the amount she was getting paid these days she knew she would leave a “I-feel-guilty” tip to be remembered.

CiCi nodded, “Damn right you will. Or you can’t come back here no more.” And then she hugged Nora so tight it seemed like she was trying to keep her there forever. “We missed you so much, girl.”

“I missed you all, too.” Nora hugged her back, and stared out the window of the cab as they traveled through the 7th Ward, Treme, and skirted the Quarter. It would have been late for most cities on a weekday, but at eleven the clubs and bars were just getting started here. The array of finery, hats, and outrageous shoes could have been because it was two days until Halloween or, since this was New Orleans, because it was Tuesday. 

She sighed, letting the warm air blow on her face. She had missed it here, and she had missed her friends, but she had to admit at the moment she was missing Loki. 

It would have been a delight to take him to Bullet’s and see his aristocratic hauteur at the sight of its genuinely crappy wood paneling, the vinyl chairs with the stuffing coming out, the sticky, rickety tables. And then for him to hear that first, stunning, life-affirming trumpet note as the band began to play. 

Nora would have made him come dance with her. Or tried to. 

But when she had started to ask him to join her, to meet her friends here, the words had caught in her throat. 

They had been standing on the porch of the (hilariously) lavish Garden District mansion that the local worthies of the Goblin Market had set them up in, while she waited for her cab, refusing to use the car and driver that had been arranged for them. It would be too hard to explain a vintage Rolls and the Second Coming of Dorothy Dandridge who was behind the wheel. 

“So, you are going dancing? Is it not a bit early for that?” It was much warmer here than in Chicago, but Magnus looked cool and comfortable as ever in three piece tweed, which made Nora jealous as hell since she knew she would be sweating through her clothes in the crush at the show.

“The Tuesday show at Bulliet’s is always early. Its tradition. We’ll probably go out for drinks afterwards. This place on St. Charles.” 

He looked at her, not speaking, and for a moment, just a moment, she thought that he was hoping to be asked along. 

The moment passed. “I plan to spend the bulk of the evening walking the leys of the city. Something is ….peculiar about them. Will this serve as a passable disguise?” Magnus shimmered and in his place was a late middle aged African-American man in work clothes, carrying a cooler lunchbox. 

“Stop that!” Fortunately the huge, overgrown garden blocked any view of the porch from the street.

“I can assure you that our temporary benefactors in this city have given us a very safe safehouse.” 

“Voice.”

“What? Oh, yes.” He nodded, “Is this better?” He now sounded exactly like the attendant at the airport that had given them directions to their car. 

“Much. You are all Creole now.”

“Enjoy your evening, Nora.”

He walked down the stairs, his body language that of a tired man who had just ended a long day.

“Thank you, again.”

She saw him stiffen, “Don’t thank me again.” He walked towards Magazine St. without turning to look at her.

Now she wondered if Loki was still walking, or if he was enjoying dinner at Antoine’s or Galatoire’s, or maybe at some place that only the supernatural cognoscenti were aware of. Splitting a magnum of Dom with their dazzling driver, with whom Nora was convinced she’d seen him share an admiring glance. 

No, she hadn’t she realized, she just, for some reason, had wanted to see that. The glance at been entirely on the driver’s part, Loki had barely seemed to notice the woman, which seemed unnatural even for him.

“Cat got your brain?” AJ asked, as they pulled up to the bar. It was an old Creole corner house, with shuttered windows that worked as doors on the first floor and an L-shaped balcony that Nora could barely make out in the dark. The doors were open and the seats out front on the banquette were filled with smokers talking to each other and passersby. The New Orleans drinking community was a close-knit one, and the city was small, smaller now, so everyone knew everyone else from somewhere. Even the tourists were easily absorbed into conversations, as it was the custom to treat visitors like friends, both because of a sense of southern hospitality and the knowledge that it was the tourists that kept the city afloat most of the year.

As ever, Nora was struck by the fact that one of the most dangerous places she had ever been was also one of the friendliest.

AJ led them to the stairs, passing a group of people in homemade How to Train Your Dragon costumes singing an acapella version of “Shake Ya Ass,” a man who looked like John Goodman, who probably was John Goodman, was leaning on the bar picking from a huge array of Belgian beers, and dozens of other drinkers. 

The second floor bar was less worn and crowded than the first floor, but was still well used and loved. AJ’s sister MaryAnne ran out from behind the bar and hugged Nora hard, leaning back so her feet were off the ground. She was a big, big woman, and loved to show off how strong she was.

After the formalities of who had been doing what, and with who, and for how long, she poured shots of Maker’s for AJ and CiCi, and an Abita Amber for Nora. 

“You all picked the Best time to come in. I have been Bursting! There is the hottest fucking guy I have ever seen in ever, on the balcony. He paid Patti extra to have it to himself.” She gestured to the window out onto the balcony where the bartender could pass drinks.

“Uh, is this like the time ‘George Clooney’ was in here?” CiCi asked.

“It could have been him. Brad Pitt lives here, so it could have been. Anyway, this guy isn’t famous, he is just hot. And rich. And wearing a suit. Makes all of these hipsters and alcoholics look like little boys. And he let me pick his liquor, ‘cause he wanted the best, not the most expensive. So there.” MaryAnne folded her muscled arms over her chest and defied them to prove her wrong.

As if conjured their conversation, a slightly rough, slightly husky baritone floated in through the bar window, “MaryAnne, my sweet, another if you would be so obliging?”

“See?” MaryAnne hissed at them.

“Damn. I want to ride his voice,” AJ whispered. “What is that accent?”

Nora sighed, “Scandagenerican.” She motioned to glass MaryAnne was pouring. “You won’t believe this, but remember I said I was here with my new boss…”

 

On top of having bought out the balcony, Loki had asked for the lights to be turned off, so only the glow from the windows illuminated Nora’s way as she carried the glass around the corner to the short side of the porch. 

Loki had protected himself from heat, cold, knives, disease, and probably gunfire, but it appeared he had forgotten to ask bourbon not to harm him, because the loose-limbed way he was sprawled in the iron chair seemed if not drunk at least unnaturally casual. 

He …. Magnus … looked at her in confusion. “You’re not MaryAnne.”

“You are speaking in contractions. You must be wasted.”

“Ah, no, but Magnus might be. If that makes sense.” 

“It does, which worries me for my future. At some point my brain is going to lose elasticity and just won’t spring back.”

He took the drink, raised it to his lips, and then stopped before sipping, “You are no longer wearing your hosiery. You were wearing them when you left our house. They were blue.”

Nora worked very hard to ignore the feeling in her chest over the words “our house.” She tried to think of the response that would annoy him the most. 

“Yup.”

Loki leaned forward, forearms on his spread thighs. He had taken off his suit jacket, and loosened his tie a little, but his vest was still buttoned and his sleeves rolled down 

“Really? And who was the fortunate creature who persuaded you out of them?” How low exactly could his voice go? How soft? Even though he hadn’t really moved closer to her Nora felt her ancestral DNA screaming at her to run from the wolf. 

Instead she doubled-down, refusing to pretend she didn’t know he was about. “Kermit Ruffins.”

“And was he .... do I need to harm him?” 

It took Nora a few seconds to catch what he was thinking. “No. Kermit is the musician we saw tonight. He killed, and we were dancing, and the place is small and hot so I took them off. It was that or faint.”

He leaned back again, his eyes narrowed. “You should sit down.”

She looked around, his was the only chair on that part of the balcony, “I’ll grab a –“

“Here.” He patted his right leg.

“Are you serious?” Nora wondered how she could speak with her mouth that dry. 

“Oh, yes.” 

She hesitated, but seemed like the best possible idea, even if she knew it wasn’t. “Ok….” Yeah, she was doing this. Nora perched herself on his thigh, as close to his knee as she could go without sliding off. 

Loki was having none of it, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. He made a soft humming noise against her neck, “Good girl.”

Once Nora had unintentionally broken up with a man she was dating when he called her ‘good girl,’ in bed and she had burst out laughing. When Loki said it the words reverberated through her, echoing in her blood, fluttering like fingers down her skin, and pooled between her legs. 

And she didn’t laugh at all. She whimpered, and tried to cover it, as they both tried to cover any weakness, with words.

“I think-“

“Stop thinking. Just enjoy this lovely night with me, lovely treasure, lovely, lovely Nora.” He wasn’t exactly slurring, but he wasn’t not, either. 

Christ, maybe I am taking advantage of him, Nora thought. Even Princes and gods get horny when they are drinking.

“I said stop.” His voice was sharp and now entirely Loki, Magnus banished, at least verbally. Nora jerked, and he used her momentum to move her so she was straddling his leg.

Oh, this was very bad. As was her wanting to lean back and then forth. Just a little. Just for a few seconds.

“I have never seen your legs bare before.” His voice was deep in her ear. “I have wished to, but have been denied it.”

“I went to the beach with Eddie.” 

Loki reached behind his chair and flipped his walking stick into his hand so he held it close to the tip. She felt him smile against her skin and slowly it trailed way up the outside of her calf, slowly, slowly, now at her knee. The cool, brass pommel was heavy, cool, and smooth on her hungry skin. And good. It was so good.

“Eddie was never able to see you as clearly as he should have. He was unworthy of your charming legs.” The stick stopped, lightly tapping just above the knee. It made her jump and then stifle a moan as she settled back on the hard ridge of his thigh. 

Oh, god, she was wet and he had to know. 

She started to move, to stand, and Loki bit into her shoulder, not to hurt, but to hold her in place like a tomcat immobilizing his mate. 

Nora could tell he was sliding his hand down his walking stick towards her leg. 

Thus far they had not actually touched skin to skin. Her blouse, his trousers, the walking stick, had all blocked that, and Nora knew that if he were to touch her, if she were to feel even one of those long, balletic fingers on her she would cross a river of no return.

She wanted to. 

“We have to get up in the morning. Early. And I am very tired. I need some sleep. I think the flight took more out of me than I thought.” She spoke stiffly, holding herself very still.

His mouth let go of her quickly, and Loki stood, taking her with him. His voice was formal, businesslike, even, “Of course. I should have insisted you stay in tonight after your ordeal, but you wanted to see your friends. Are they here? We should say good evening.”

 

Nora tossed in her bed, unable to sleep.

It wasn’t the bed’s fault, of course. The bed was impeccable, firm, but with a featherbed topper, the blankets cozy, the pillows cool. The platonic ideal of a bed for her. Except she was alone in it.

Leaving the bar would have been embarrassing in Chicago, being led out by her drunk, handsome boss, the evidence of their misbehavior clear by the flush of her cheeks, the enormous erection ruining the line of his suit, and the wet spot on his pant leg. In New Orleans … 

In New Orleans she just said good night to CiCi, AJ, and MaryAnne, their expressions variously amused, knowing, and envious, but all delighted for her. Then she poured the two of them into a cab, out of it, and into the house, the bourbon having hit him again somewhere between Polymnia and Third St. 

Good. Drunk would make her life much easier.

Loki had, for whatever reason, not turned back to his Asgardian self when safely inside, and it had taken her some effort to maneuver him up the mahogany staircase to the third floor Master Bedroom. He had fallen with boneless grace onto the king sized bed, barely missing one of the posters. She had draped his blue suit jacket over a chair, unbuttoned his vest and slid off his gleaming brown oxfords. And she told herself that none of that had any reason to be arousing at all. 

Thankfully, as long as he was Magnus she could convince herself of that lie. If he had been Loki…

Which was what was keeping her awake. In her mind he had been Loki, himself, loose-limbed and splendid. Black hair staining the white pillows. Smelling of cedar, tangerines, incense, and salt dug from deep earth. His stomach jumping to her touch as she unbuttoned him. His feet - she was even attracted to his feet! His feet long and cool, bony and gorgeous.

Mad with frustration Nora threw back her blankets and slid one hand under her t-shirt and the other under her panties.

 

Loki woke, sitting up, rubbing his face. He had clearly fallen asleep, or passed out, as Magnus, but something had woken him. His changed metabolism burned the alcohol out of his blood and pores in a boozy mist, in the same moment he willed away his now despoiled and sodden clothing. 

What had woken him? Why had he sought his bed while still inebriated? 

Then he heard it. Faint, and just below him. Nora, in the bedroom below his. Nora in her lonely, chaste bed, pleasuring herself.

He stood up, his bare feet on the polished wood floor, and he could smell her. Her normal warmth now a heat pouring sweet and musky from her.

Then he remembered why he had intended to keep the suit he had worn earlier that evening. It had been dripping in Nora’s scent. In Nora’s truth. 

Damn his haste.

He stretched upon the floor and palmed himself. Yes, my treasure, love yourself if you won’t let me lo- please you. 

He could see her, his memory of the feel of her trying not to ride his thigh, the way she arched when his teeth found her muscle, the soft, near sob of need she had made, all making her clearer in his mind. His hand moved faster, knowingly. Loki pictured Nora’s precious hand, sweet and sure, wrapped around his cock, her lovely breasts pressed to his chest, as she languorously pumped him to completion. 

“Oh Nora,” murmured to himself, to the smooth, cold wood of the floor, “come for me, let me hear your peak.”

And when she came, she said his name. His name a moan, a lamentation, and prayer. 

He spent over his fist, coming with hard, vicious, heaving rage, and for endless moments, while listening to Nora fall into a cruel, dismissive sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bullets and Kermit Ruffins are both real, but I have never been fortunate enough to experience either live. I have been to the Avenue Pub, and it is perfection.


	14. Some Kind of Something Going On Down There

Halloween morning in New Orleans dawned warm and damp, with a fine wind whispering past the graveyards, picking up crumbled stucco and red brick dust from the above ground tombs, fine leaves fallen from withered flowers, and the occasional spirit who could not recall their way home and so waited near their graves for All Saints Day when the faithful, superstitious, and loyal, which is to say nearly everyone, of the city to visit and cleanse and remember for them.

 

But Halloween wouldn’t let them wait in peace, and so instead they flew through the city, through Mid-City, Bywater, the CBD, near Tulane, and out to Algiers, Irish Channel, the Quarter and the Marigny, Uptown and even to the fishing camps that weren’t part of the city but were of it, at least. Some of ghosts (because it was Halloween, and on Halloween spirits are ghosts, no matter what the more metaphysically delicate might prefer) were snagged by the presence of a descendent, a familiar building, a true memory, a strong, if unrealized, dream.

 

Standing on the porch of his borrowed mansion in the Garden District Loki raised a lazy hand into the air and snagged a thin and, for this place anyway, ancient ghost from the air. It clung to his fingers like a cobweb, tangling itself.  He cocked his head, staring, and then took a sip of the heavily chicoried coffee that Nora had insisted on making them this morning, afterwards blowing a bit of it onto his new pet.

 

It seemed to take some strength from the coffee, to reform itself a bit, resolving into the image of a wisp of a girl who had no edges.

 

“Thank you, handsome sir.” She still clung to his fingers, but managed a curtsey none the less.

 

He turned his palm so it was a platform for her to stand on. She was a pretty little thing.  It was hard to say with ghosts how accurate their manifestations were.  Some of them were fantasies of beauty and charm, some vengefully horrific in the hope of disturbing the living, some full of self-hate, some of sadness.

 

“Think nothing of it, my darling.”

 

“But you saved me, from the terrible, terrible wind!” She was coy, and the longer she stood on his hand, playing innocently with her long skirts, peeping at him from under the elaborate, many-pointed turban that hid her hair, the more Loki knew it for an act. 

 

“What is that?” Nora said, sounding horrified and intrigued at once. 

 

Nora, Loki had no doubt, would appear EXACTLY as herself if she were ever to be a ghost. Right down to the scuff on her right shoe and the way lifted one side of her mouth and lowered the other when looking at him.

 

“A delightful little ghost. She is pretending to be an innocent miss, but if I am right, and I make a practice of being so, she is actually a former voudienne.  As trite as that may be here and on this day.”

 

“Really?” Nora peered around his arm.  “Ok, sorry, but that is really cool.  I mean, yes, trite, and kind of touristy, but cool.  Where did you get her?”

 

The tiny ghost had gone from naïve/flirtatious to calculating/flirtatious. “I can speak for myself, miss.  He stole me from the wind.  With my thanks, mind you.”  She curtsied to Loki again.  As they were speaking she resolved herself further back to what she might have looked like when alive, with deep brown skin, blue eyes, and features not unlike the famous bust of Nefertiri.  “The wind has been stealing spirits these past All Hallows, those who don’t know themselves well enough to hang on.”

 

“You aren’t Marie Laveau, are you?” Nora asked.

 

The tiny figure, for she seemed quite solid now, stamped her foot. “I ain’t – I mean I am not any Marie Laveau!  How’d she get to be THE Queen they remember?  Songs and books and tourists and such?  It’s not fair!  She and that mama of hers were just Queens among Queens, not the be all!”  She gave a sly smile, “Still, least the rest of us aren’t getting our tombs all marked up by stupid white people making Xs on them, like that’s a thing.  Anyways, Marie and Marie Jr. aren’t ever going to forget themselves as long as there are dumb, drunk people visiting this town, which means never.”

 

“Ok, then,” Nora said, making a placating motion, “well who are you then?”

 

“I’m …. Wait… darn. I still don’t remember.”  She sat down, in a bit of a pout.

 

“Don’t worry yourself, pet, it will come to you in the fullness of time. Until it does you shall be safe with me.”  Loki said, holding her up to his eye level, using his most soothing tones.

 

The tiny figure moved to her knees and then lay flat in a position of supplication, “Oh, Maitre Carrefour! Protect me and I shall serve you in this world and all others.”

 

“I wouldn’t make that deal without asking for dental and a matching 401k …” Nora said, “I need way more coffee, you play with your little friend, and remember, we are meeting with the Goblin Market people in an hour.”

 

“You are becoming quite jaded, treasure.” Loki said, looking away from his tiny worshipper to his full-sized critic.  “Just a few weeks ago you would have been-“

 

“Less useful to you? Yup.”

 

“You allow that woman to be greatly disrespectful to you, Kalfu.”

 

Loki thought of the night before, of his lonely bed and Nora’s … being Nora. “You have no idea.  Now, pet, I have questions.  More coffee?” 

 

 

It was only a few blocks from their temporary mansion to Commander’s Palace so Loki took Nora’s suggestion that they walk rather than take the liveried car that had been provided for them. The enchanting driver looked disappointed. 

 

“In a different time,” Loki thought to himself, while still not sure why he was choosing to please Nora when she had so little interest in pleasing him. Moreover, as her employer he was relatively certain she was meant to look to him rather than he to her, when it came to these sorts of choices.

 

And yet, in spite of his entirely justified anger at her, anger that he would be sure to let her know about at some point, Loki felt a real joy at how happy Nora was this morning. She walked along the terribly uneven and broken banquettes of what was supposed to be one of the nicest part of this city with true verve.  She petted a black cat that came from nowhere to ring her ankles, and hummed a song that she told him was called “Saint James Infirmary”, once or twice singing a word, and all seemed right with her world for the first time since he had met her.

 

Well, since the first time he had met her AFTER nearly consigning her to an early, painful death. If such could be called a meeting.

 

Loki chose to think it could not.

 

“Private room at Commander’s Palace! Private, SECRET room at Commander’s Palace!  This is the best trip to NOLA I have ever taken.  And that includes the time I made out with Poppy Brite!”

 

“Since you wh-“

 

“Here we are.”

 

The great wooden building was clearly from another era, wooden, striped in aqua and white, surrounding a courtyard of old trees, and echoing with magic, power, and (most strangely) real kindness. Kindness was not usually popular with the supernatural element of the universe, as it was selfishness that led most to it, but for some reason it was here in thick, old layers.

 

An attractive, elegantly dressed woman of late middle years greeted them like old friends and took them through several dining rooms filled with the well-dressed and well-fed. Just outside of kitchens she pressed several places on a painted wall panel which opened to show a narrow, unadorned staircase. 

 

“There you all go. Be sure to tell Leo if you need anything at all.  And enjoy yourselves!”  She sounded both casual, and as if she meant it.

 

The room private dining room was in a different style from the rest of the bright rooms they had walked through. Unlike the vaguely 18th century style of the rest of the building, it was minimalist, but in warm shades of brown and gold.  The long, long table that took up most of the surprisingly small space was mostly empty, with only four people sitting at the far end.

 

Loki eyed the tiny room with the low ceiling, rather more surprised than he like to let on. Considering what he had learned about the mystic community of this small city he was expecting something more….grand.

 

“New Orleans is pretty compact. You try putting a secret room in one of its most famous restaurants and see how much space they let you have.”  A small, agelessly old African American woman in an arterially red dress said, as she stood and walked towards him, her hand extended.

 

“The restauranteurs were not compliant?” He asked.

 

She laughed, “We may be powerful, but they! They are IT!  Well, and the musicians.  Least ways the musicians don’t know how powerful they are.  I’m Millie Patenaude, I believe we spoke on the phone.”

 

“Madame Patenaude,” Loki bowed over her hand, “Magnus Rasmussen, yes.  I have been looking breathlessly forward to our meeting since we spoke.” 

 

She slapped his arm, “Aren’t you a charmer?” She took him around the table and introduced him to the other three members of the New Orleans Goblin Market governing board, Mr. Incardona, who wore an impeccably cut seersucker suit and looked as if he had just come from prayer, Mr. Millhawser, a shockingly young African American man with blonde curls, and Mrs. Lac Ngiem Thi, who had a surprisingly thick Yat accent for someone of such obvious wealth.

 

Loki could feel Nora’s annoyance at not being introduced.

 

How nice.

 

“Now I don’t know how they do it in Chicago, or Norway, or wherever you are from, but in New Orleans we eat first. Always.”  Mrs. Lac said, “And drink.  So you just order any cocktail you want.”

 

After rock shrimp, turtle soup with sherry, gulf fish, and bread pudding soufflé with rum, several champagne cocktails, Golden Dawns, and Manhattans, and a venerable Château Haut-Bailly that Nora particularly liked (and then turned green over when she managed to persuade the wine captain to tell her how much a bottle cost), they were finally able to get down to matters.

 

Loki was astounded by the leisure with which the New Orleanians treated what was a business luncheon and for a moment felt that he could not possibly be in the United States on Midgard in the 21st Century. Everything was too civilized to be true.

 

“So, Mr. Rasmussen,” Mr. Millhawswer spoke, his accent Creole brushed with British Public School, “you have been in the city for a few days now. What are your thoughts?”

 

Loki smiled, leaning back, “Apart from my admiration for your cuisine and architecture? My thoughts are that there is, as you suspected something very odd and off going on with your city, politically, economically, and supernaturally.  While I cannot, no, would not, help you with your corruption issues, I have a fair idea of what to do about your mystical difficulties.”

 

He then leaned back in his chair and pulled out his phone, idly flipping through Pinterest.

 

Nora had updated her “My Style” page recently. He looked askance at her taste in handbags.

 

The style questionable woman in question shoved his arm. “You are being a dick.”

 

“Yes, I know. Do you really like brown leather this much?  Does anyone?”  He asked. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Why do you like it? Well, that is the question, isn’t-“

 

“I mean why are you being rude? Other than that is just who you are?”  She hissed.

 

“They haven’t paid me yet, treasure.”

 

“Oh.”

 

There was a flurry of phones and tablets amongst the Governing Board, and Loki received a very satisfying banking alert. He did not so much care about money as enjoy it as yet another way of counting coup in this world.

 

“Ladies, Gentlemen, may I introduce you to –“ he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his tiny pet.

 

“Mmmmmmm, silk lining…. You spoil me, Lord Carrefour,” the little ghost purred.

 

Loki could feel a breeze as Nora rolled her eyes.

 

The others leaned in as he carefully placed the ghost on the table. She offered a graceful curtsy.  “Your pardons, but I am afraid my name is lost to the decades, mes amis.”

 

Incardona gave a bow in return, Mrs. Lac folded her hands and inclined her head over them, while Ms. Patenaude and Mr. Millhawser both made a motion similar to genuflecting.

 

“Would you please explain to our hosts what you told me earlier about the ghost wind, my darling?” Loki asked, smiling.

 

“Of course, my lord.” The little figure stood as if on a stage, “When the nightmare came, when Katrina tried to eat the city, the spirits pushed back.  All of us of old, the mambos and bokors, the Catholic priests, the nuns, the Protestants even, all said their prayers and knelt, even though we don’t have knees any more.  The musicians blew their horns and sang and beat the drum, even though they had no hands or mouths.  The working men built walls even though they no strong arms any longer.  The fishermen lined their ghost boats on the gulf.  The working girls ruffled their skirts to make a wind blowing the other way.  The good ladies and gentlemen all just stood in line, hoping to block the waves with their ghost bodies. 

 

“And we did it. We pushed that bitch away.  Apologizes, I was raised better than that.  But we did.  But Katrina, she still did her damage.  That happens.  You can’t really stop the weather, you can just give some shelter.  But it should have been well.  It should have been ….normal, I guess.”

 

The little figure swayed and fell on her knees, “And people still died! It wasn’t fair!  We all agreed, all of us, enemies or friends or strangers in life, we agreed in death to try and help the city and we did it and so many of our brothers and sisters still died.  Our houses rotted and had to be torn down.  Our families had no place to come home to.  We did our part, it was the living that let them down, didn’t care what happened to them.  They were betrayed, and now so many of us have no one who remembers us.  No one here, anyway.”

 

She sobbed, tiny shoulders shaking.

 

“Go on, dearling.” Loki encouraged.

 

“So now when the walls are thin, when the veil comes down, we blow away, like garbage, like detritus, like nothing.” Her voice was barely there, and she grew pale.

 

“Oh, god!” Nora’s voice was sick, “Here!”  She poured hundreds of dollars’ worth of wine into her hand and offered it to the spirit

 

“Thank you. You’re nicer than you look.” 

 

“Yeah, I get that.”

 

Loki stood up, walking slowing around the table. None of the others watched him, intent on seeing the ghost girl sipping delicately from Nora’s palm.  “Most cities, true cities, are as much a product of their history as of their architecture or citizenry.  They are what they are because of what has come before. Cities, more than any other type of habitation, are like people, they are families, families full of strangers.  It is quite beautiful if you go in for that sort of thing.

 

“Your city, small, poor, and willfully unique, is even more so. Every city has a famous ghost story – Nora’s Chicago has Resurrection Mary, a rather classic if prosaic example.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“New Orleans is different. New Orleans is a ghost story. A living, breathing, rare and strange ghost story.  A ghost story that is losing its ghosts.  At a rather alarming rate.”

 

Ms. Patenaude alone looked at him, her eyes wet. “What do you suggest we do about it?”

 

“How did we not know this was happening?” Mr. Millhawser.

 

Loki put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, suddenly aware of just how young he was. Just how young they all were, even his long dead new friend.  All infants, all so soon to die.  He felt heavy and for a moment the weight of his years by a human standard.  “It is very hard for the living to be aware of the concerns of the dead.  Especially the benevolent dead.  The malevolent have a way of making their wants known.  You simply have too much living to deal with.

 

“As far as what to do….I have studied a bit of your city’s history, and understand that All Saint’s Day is an important ritual, for both the magical community and the … um… normal people one as well? A day of remembrance.  Perhaps this year you need to find a way to remember what you have forgotten?”

 

 

“That was brilliant. You were wonderful.  You were even nice.”  Nora said, sounding insultingly amazed, as they walked back to the mansion, he to do some diagrams for the Governors, she to rest up before they attended the Goblin Market Ball that night. 

 

When she stopped him and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek he firmly took her arms and set her back.

 

“No.”

 

“I-“

 

“I heard you last night.” He said it without meaning to, an uncomfortable feeling filling his lungs, and he continued walking.

 

“What?” Nora scurried to catch up with him, Magnus’s legs being much longer than hers.

 

“I heard you…touching yourself…” Loki was trying not to be angry.

 

“You were listening!” Her outrage seemed hilarious to him and he laughed bitterly.

 

“You were loud.”

 

“No I wasn’t!”

 

He rounded on her, leaning so his nose was close to her’s, her brown eyes wide, “You could have been, but you preferred to please yourself in what was no doubt a very workmanlike manner!” He hissed.

 

She stepped back, “It wasn’t-“

 

“And then when you shouted my name, I could have heard that in the void!”

 

“I believe I may have said your name in a very calm and reasonable way.” Nora said, gulping.

 

“Which is even more ridiculous!” Now he had to admit he was being a bully, as he waved his arms and backed her until she pressed against the wrought-iron gate of their current residence.  “You should have been wild with pleasure, moaning and insensible, but instead you chose to be alone, to commit an adequate at best act of masturbation and then sleep alone.  Pathetic!”  He spat the last word and let himself in gate.

 

Nora followed, “You were drunk! I didn’t know it-“

 

“Don’t.” He couldn’t look at her and felt his shoulders slump.  “Just do not.  You know I want you, you know my state of inebriation could have, would have, ended at your desire.”

 

She made a frustrated sound and hustled passed him into the house. He took several breaths before following her in.

 

“I’m not ready.” Nora sat on the staircase, expressionless.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not ready. To sleep with you.  I mean, my body is ready, clearly.  Your pants could tell you that.  My body has been ready since the first time I -, since the first time I saw you at the funeral.  Saw you, not Magnus.”  She made a motion, “Would you?”

 

Loki became Loki.

 

“My body is ready, and eager, and hates my mind right now. But my mind.  No, my heart, isn’t ready.  I can’t just go to bed with you and then go on the rest of the time like nothing happened.  Too much has happened, actually, way too much.”  Nora stood and walked over, not quite touching his hand.

 

“I don’t really remember what it felt like to be the me I was before New York. I remember what she did, how she acted, but I don’t remember how it was inside.  You made me a different person.  And then, with Eddie, you did it again. 

 

“If I am with you, if you are my lover, even just once, you are going to do it again. I know that.  I know it.  I’m not ready to change that much again.”  She tentatively touched his hand.

 

Loki grabbed her fingers and pressed them to his lips, “I am sorry.”

 

Nora touched his hair and then, as if unable to not, stroked his hair. “I have wanted to touch your hair for so long.”

 

“You may touch any part of me any time you are ready.”

 

“Speaking of ready, I need a shower before tonight.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Watching her lovely legs ascending, Loki could not stop himself from asking, “By ‘not ready yet’ I can presume you will be ready, eventually?”

 

Her laugh fell on him like petals and rain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little long, but its my birthday and if I can't go to Commander's Palace at least I can write about it.


	15. Pull Yourself Together Girl and Have a Little Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Sorry for all of the mistakes I have no doubt missed.

“Clearly you think you are hilarious.” Nora called up through the ceiling. 

 

“Sorry, treasure, were you speaking to me? Or have you taken up mumbling to yourself?  I am afraid I can’t hear you clearly.”  Loki’s voice came from the air around her, which was a bit disorienting.

 

“The costume, HI-larious!”

 

Nora looked at herself in the mirror again, straightening the gloves a bit. “I am going to need a hand with part of this!” 

 

“What? How can I hear you from down there?”

 

Nora counted to ten and then went upstairs, holding the tail in her hand so she wouldn’t trip on it. The boots were shockingly comfortable, considering how long it had been since she had worn heels this high.  She pounded on Loki’s door, once for each shouted word.  “I. Need. Help. With. The. H- Oh holy shit!”

 

Loki had opened the door, lightly catching her wrist to keep her from hitting his chest. That wasn’t what had stopped her from yelling at him.

 

His costume. It was magnificent.  Which was to be expected.  Loki insisted on being impressive on a daily basis, each bespoke suit tailored to a degree past perfection, his shoes buffed to a blinding shine, every tie a Windsored or Hanovered work of art, even a plain grey sweater was an event when Loki wore it.  So when given an opportunity for genuine magnificence….

 

“I should object to such language, considering, but I suppose that coming from you it is to be expected.”

 

He was an angel.

 

Well, of course he wasn’t. Loki could only be an angel in the Fallen and Reigning In Hell sense, but Magnus was an angel.  A stepped out of a Renaissance painting archangel in royal blue, with a golden breast-plate and spear, and enormous white wings that fluttered lightly behind him.  He had even grown out Magnus’s auburn curls so they hung over his shoulders. 

 

“Seriously? I suppose that explains this then.” Nora gestured to her own dark red devil costume, complete with a very long tail, pitchfork, a cape with a big framing collar, and horns, which she couldn’t figure out how to put on. 

 

Actually, when she had seen the costume hanging up she had been relieved that while it was really quite magnificent, too, made of velvet and silk, that it was reasonably sexy rather than stupidly so. “Here, this seems to be your area of expertise,” she handed him the cute little horns.  They weren’t on a headband, and seemed to have no way to connect to her hair.

 

He led her to a mirror and stood behind her and carefully placed the horns, holding them against her head, but not touching her otherwise, “Here?”

 

“Back a little.”

 

“Better?”

 

“Maybe just a bit farther apart?”

 

“Finicky.”

 

“Look who’s talking. That’s perfect.”

 

“Yes, it is.” He held them in place with a finger on each tip, and then lightly blew on each. 

 

Nora felt flush as her whole body turned pink. “Stop that!”

 

“Sorry, but now you are a complete devil.” He lifted his finger, and the horns stayed, and grew into two perfect, black crescents about eight inches long.

 

“What the-“

 

“You’ve had so much fun at the expense of mine, treasure, I thought you might want to see how they feel. Don’t worry, they will come off at the first light of dawn, when the enchantments on the costumes end.” 

 

Nora reached up to grab one off. It was firmly in place.  And weirdly sensitive….

 

“You fucking –“

 

Loki held up his hands, looking entirely innocent, “In my defense, I arranged the costume before our early conversation. I promise not to interfere with your horns.”  His voice turned oddly husky, “If you don’t meddle with my wings.”

 

“What?” She pulled at the gloves again, irritated.

 

He looked at her in the mirror, his eyes heavily lidded, and then turned his head to look significantly at one his snowy wings.

 

The spaded end of her long tail was stroking the feathers in long, teasing touches. Based on Loki’s expression, and breathing, they were just as sensitive as her horns.  Nora actually made a “Yipes!” sound.  “Sorry, it um, has a mind of its own.”  She twitched the tail away from him and he gave her a very dirty smile.  

 

“I understand completely. We should depart, if we leave now we will be stylishly late.”

 

 

The annual New Orleans Goblin Market Ball took place in the Pennier-Lescot House in the French Quarter, which also served as a sort of unofficial headquarters for the Market’s Governors. Ms. Patenaude, as the senior member, was the hostess for the evening, and she stood in the courtyard doorway, dressed as rather charming Robin Hood.  At her side was an enormous, even by Asgardian standards, hairless albino, dressed in evening clothes and holding a flambeau in one hand and a tray with champagne in the other.

 

Behind her the courtyard was filled with beautiful maskers, music, and the smells of heavenly food. It looked to be a pleasant little gathering, my Midgardian standards.  But Nora looked enraptured, a slow, soft smile parting her lips. 

 

“Mr. Rasmussen! Miss Walsh!  What wonderful costumes!”  She air kissed both of them in the continental style, having to stand on tip-toe to reach Loki.  “We are so pleased you could join us for our celebration.  Please.”  She handed them each a glass, “Go in, enjoy, anything you want that you don’t see just ask one of the zombies to fetch if for you.”

 

“Zom-“ Nora choked on a sip of wine, her tail twitching in agitation. Loki quickly cut her off, while patting her on the back a bit more roughly than was needed.

 

Loki knew the best way to distract Nora from something that might upset her was for him to be even more upsetting. “Thank you so much for your gracious invitation.  To think we are fortunate enough to attend such a lavish event.  I am sure that I for one will have never seen it’s equal.  Will have you, Nora?  Any grand galas in your past worthy of remembrance? ” His voice dripped sincerity, he could tell because some of it had gotten onto his boots.  Suede had not been a good idea.  

 

“Gosh, no I haven’t.” She turned and looked at him, her adorable tail visible over her shoulder, the tip aiming towards his heart like an arrow.  “Unless you count the Sadie Hawkins Day dance at Our Lady of Unending Mawkishness when I was in high school.  Now that was a shindig, let me tell you.  I took Bryan O’Connor.  UGLY!  But boy could he dance.”

 

Loki threw back his head and laughed, while Ms. Patenaude giggled, clearly sensing something odd between the two of them, but she was too good of a host to ‘notice’ it.

 

Taking Nora’s elbow, he led her into the party. “You are a shit, you know that?  ‘I am sure that I for one will have never seen it’s equal.’”  She dropped her voice, taking on a drawling and haughty tone, as they entered the beautiful house, heading toward the second floor ballroom.  

 

“Is that supposed to be me, treasure? I don’t think I could possibly sound like that!” 

 

“Not seen it’s equal my assl! I bet the whole flight back tomorrow you will be telling how this is the Asgardian equivalent of a Monday night when everyone is too tired to make an effort.  How the glory of an Asgardian Fete would literally destroy my mere mortal brain with its magnificence and pomp!”

 

Loki sipped the champagne, which was excellent, “Well, that is all sadly true.” It was working, they had passed several of the zombie servants and Nora was so busy being annoyed with him she hadn’t noticed any of them.  “When I return home I will Instagram you some pictures of them killing the fatted calf for me.  If I use the right filter I just may manage to not devastate you with the grandeur.”

 

“Just stop and tell me this isn’t beautiful.” Nora gestured to the ballroom.

 

It was beautiful. A perfect toybox of a room, in gold and red, with splendidly masquerading figures. Mr. Incardona and his young and lovely husband, dressed as Aramis and D’artangan, waltzed passed them.  Over near the refreshment table Mrs. Lac was dressed as a Marie Antoinette shepardess, complete with a crook.  She was attended by tiny twins, a boy and a girl, dressed as lambs.  Based on the resemblance they were likely her grandchildren. 

 

Young Millhawser did not appear to be attendance, so he was probably in charge of the Market for the night, being the newest member. A shame, Loki would have been curious as to what such a serious man would choose for his alter ego.

 

He started to make another comment to Nora, but she put up a hand, “You can stop. I am over the zombie thing.  Are they dead?  Either way, it’s probably evil.”

 

He looked down at her, not wanting to answer. She would dislike the answer. “I am so transparent?”

 

Nora shrugged and gave him a smile. “I know your tell.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Which is?”

 

She turned so their mouths were very close together, “When you move your mouth, it’s a dead giveaway…” And then she laughed at him.

 

When Loki saw what was striding towards them across the dance floor he laughed, too.

 

“Lovely demon! Be mine, for a dance at least.”  A woman’s voice, low and British came from behind Nora.  She cocked her head and frowned at Loki.  Clearly this was what he found so funny.

 

She turned and saw …. Loki.

 

Tall and resplendent in green leather and gold, the woman was beautiful. Almost beautiful enough to satisfy Loki’s vanity.  She had clearly used some form of magic, perhaps similar to what he had used on their costumes, to heighten what was already an unusual similarity to their looks.  The nearly too black of her hair and too green of her eyes were clearly inhuman.  As were her splendid breasts. 

 

She placed a hand to her chest and bowed slightly, “M’lady Lucifer, surely a sinner such as myself deserves your infernal favor.” Before Nora could respond she had snatched the pitchfork from her hands, tossed it to Loki, and then whirled his sweet girl away.

 

He nodded, smiling to himself, “I’m impressed.”

 

Mr. Incardona had handed his husband off to Milady d’Winter for the next dance and joined Loki to watch the floor, pressing a very fine bourbon into his hand. “Pappy, my private stock.  Enjoying yourself?  Your assistant seems to have made a great hit with Lady Agnes.  They make a handsome pair.”  He gave Loki a concerned look, “Are you well, sir?  You seem a bit, unsettled.”

 

Loki sipped slowly, savoring the warmth. “Yes. Incardona, have you ever seen something in real life that was so like a dream you had once that you are uncertain if you are awake?”

 

“Once or twice.”

 

“Then you understand my state of mind. Excuse me.”  He finished the last sip of bourbon and placed it on the tray of the nearest zombie, making his way carefully through the crowd, not wanting his wings to brush anyone.  They were far more sensitive than he had thought they would be, which could end up being quite awkward.

 

Nora was dancing well and chatting pleasantly with her flirtatious partner, but her tail was stiff with alarm.

 

His doppelganger was clearly quite handsy, and Nora was too politically correct to give _her_ the hard slap that _he_ would have gotten in the same situation.

 

The music ended as he reached them. “I believe you promised me the tango,” he said to Nora, thrusting the pitchfork and spear into Fauki’s hands, “Look after these for me, pet, and I will put in a good word for you the next time I see Daddy.”  He patted her on the head. 

 

Her hair really was amazing. So soft.

 

Then he pulled Nora against his chest, holding her arm stretched behind him, his face just a breath from her throat. “You are clearly catnip to me, no matter what the circumstance, treasure.”

 

Nora gulped a bit, and the jump of her throat caused it to graze his lips, “I don’t know how to tango. Or any of these dances.”

 

“Not to worry. I am an intemperately strong lead.”

 

 

Dawn was quietly making its way through the Quarter, crossing Esplanade, moving through the French Market, where famers were unloading peppers, late tomatoes, and squash, while hawkers were setting up tables of knock-off Prada bags, voodoo dolls made in China, and Bourbon Street t-shirts. It cast soft light on a passed-out reveler, slumped at the hooves of Joan of Arc’s steed, still dressed in his Captain America costume, his shield long since lost.  It lit the front of St. Louis Cathedral, and the bells rang on All Saints Day, and the faithful prepared to remember their fallen, forgotten, but still beloved ancestors.

 

“Look,” Loki put down the beignet he was about to take a bite of and pointed to a procession that was forming on Decatur.

 

Nora was amazed. He had eaten three plates of the donuts and had not gotten a single speck of powdered sugar on his blue velvet cape.

 

Maybe he _was_ a god.

 

The procession, led by Mr. Millhawser, was a motley crew. Some of whom were dressed in motley.  Many were still masking from the night before, while others were dressed in their church best, and still others in working clothes.  Their arms were filled with flowers and candles, photo albums and old, framed portraits, bags of groceries and bottles of wine. 

 

Millhawser nodded graciously at them, his bearing both that of a king and a supplicant, as he walked the magic contingent a magic city towards its oldest cemetery to call their dead home. He turned down St. Peter and out of their sight.

 

“Hey,” Nora realized something. “We never actually went to the Goblin Market.  Or I didn’t.  Where is it?  Around here, I am guessing.”  Loki smiled at her, and her heart jumped a bit.  “Down girl,” her inner voice growled.

 

“I thought you knew. The city _is_ the market.  Every dirty, enchanted inch of it.”

 

Just as the procession was out of view the dawn light struck the tip of one of Nora’s horns and they both fell into her lap, her tail falling limp on the coffee and sugar-sticky ground.

 

One of Loki’s feathers caught on a breeze and wafted to land across the back of her hand as she reached for her coffee. She picked it up and tucked it in her belt.

 

He stood, shedding his wings, and offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

 

They walked behind the mourners, towards Basin Street.

 

Halloween was over.

 

“I hope you have more of that chartreuse mix. I am not sure how I am going to do on the plane again.”  She said, leaning a little more on his arm.  The boots were getting to be a bit much.

 

“I will look after you, treasure, never fear.”

 

“Ha!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pennier-Lescot House is not a real place. But Café du Monde is, and it is wonderful at dawn.


	16. I Can't Seem to Change My Attitude But I Can Change My Shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that long and un-beta'd chapter is long and un-beta'd, but there we are.

Everything went well, no, better than well, everything was pretty close to wonderful when Nora and Loki were back in Chicago.

 

For about ten days.

 

For about ten days work was a pleasure. Loki would tell Nora more stories while they sat at their desks.  Stories about the hidden, magical nature of Midgard, stories about his childhood in which he seemed comfortable talking about his family for the first time, stories about some his more ridiculous and, sometimes, salacious adventures as a shapeshifter. 

 

All while racking up an impressive number of billable hours.   Well, Nora thought it was impressive.  Loki was far more gifted at multitasking than any other man she had ever met.

 

Then she thought about some of those shapeshifting stories and wondered if the multitasking was because of the amount of time he had spent as a woman. Or at least as female. 

 

The second Thursday after they got back they spent the night on his couch watching the HBO Original film The Avengers Take Back Manhattan, a three hour fictional account of the Battle of New York.  Both of them had been afraid watching it would be too traumatic or stressful for the other one, so they had silently agreed they would see it together.

 

Neither of them needed to worry. While the movie was intelligently made and well-acted – it was HBO after all – it was so far from how either of them remembered thing that they ended up having a marvelous time, eating Chinese takeout, drinking the cheap beer that Nora thought was appropriate for the night, and mocking the movie. 

 

“I understand why they cast this antipodean mass of hair and muscle as Thor-“

 

“Liam Hemsworth.”

 

“If you say so. But this other …. Person!  Who is supposed to be me!  Who is he?”

 

“Michael Fa-“

 

“I know _who_ he is, but what makes him think he can be me?  I am not some simplistic, one-liner machine like Stark, who, I might add is not as good looking as Johnny Depp.  Nor am I a jawline with a bad case of ingrown integrity like Captain Rogers.”

 

“Hey, take that shit back or I am eating all of the eggrolls.” Nora grabbed the carton out Loki’s hand and climbed over the back of the enormous couch, stuffing her face as she went.

 

“You know those are my favorites,” Loki rose slowly, giving her a look of snakelike menace that made her body react in a way she was not happy with. She swallowed cabbage and then bit the end off of another roll.

 

“Take. It. Back.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes and gave an airy wave of his hand, “Rogers is clearly the best of a dodgy lot. Your admiration is pitiable, but marginally understandable.”

 

She handed him the rest of the carton and Nora was certain he had to unhinge his jaw to eat that much that quickly. It was just disturbing enough to calm her libido down, and she stored the image in her “trying-not-to-spank” bank.

 

Once they were settled back on the couch, he was at it again, “But as I was saying, who does this actor think he is, pretending to be a King? A god?”

 

Nora sighed and pulled out her phone, “Siri find ‘Michael Fassbinder Naked.’” She flicked through a few of the images until she found the one she wanted and then thrust the phone up to Loki’s face.   She watched his gaze narrow and then his eyes grow wide.  “Better?”

 

“I take it back. Clearly if they are going to have to find a Midgardian to play me it would very difficult for them to do better.”

 

“Ok, now shhhh….this is the part where you almost kill me. I want to see if the tiny, computer generated extra that you can barely see on the ground beneath you really captures the essence of my Nora-ness.”

 

“Nora….”

 

“Oh, no, she’s terrible! See that one?”  She pointed to the huge screen, “That speck, right there?  Nope, nothing like me. She isn’t even wearing a leather jacket!  I am going to send a very harsh tweet to Susanne Bier about this outrage! ”

 

“I will see if we can get a meeting with her if you like, treasure.”

 

After the movie there was a short, making of feature, where some of the Avengers were interviewed. Stark because he couldn’t resist a camera, Captain Rogers, because having been a movie star once upon a time he was surprisingly comfortable, and Thor. 

 

When Thor came on the screen Loki was quiet.

 

Nora looked at him, looking at his brother.   He wasn’t just quiet, he was rapt and lonely, and for a short, unguarded moment, wrenchingly sad.  Then he snorted.  “I don’t know what is more ridiculous, his speaking about the “training regime” the actor portraying him went through, or his trying to pronounce ‘thalian.’  Barton must have taught him that word and he doesn’t know he’s using it wrong.  Clint’s circus background gave him the most unexpected vocabulary.”

 

“C’mon,” Nora pulled on her snow boots.

 

“Where?”

 

“Out. I’m hungry.”

 

“That is madness.” Loki said, surveying the wreckage of their enormous meal, but grabbed his Frye’s nonetheless.  He never turned down a chance to eat.

 

 

But then it was Friday. It had started out as another good day, breathtakingly cold and snowy already for what was still normally fall in Chicago, but beautiful anyway.  Nora spent most of the day slowly translating a Sumerian spell for triumph into English and then Enochian using a secret version Babelfish and a thesaurus, because Loki thought the translation wasn’t poetic enough.

 

“Since I don’t speak either Sumerian or Enochian how do you know this spell won’t, say, turn the person using it into an elephant with a bifurcated trunk or something?” She asked, as he Loki was heading out for a meeting at the Drake.

 

“Not to worry, your entire lack of magical qualities is actually a safe-guard in this case. It will be fine.  And if there is a pachyderm problem we can just offer Mr. Ryan a free month of services.”

 

Loki returned several hours later, looking even more pleased with himself than normal, which meant the penthouse was a vortex of smugness.

 

“Have you ever been to London?”

 

“Are you kidding? Only as a stopover on the way to Paris or Madrid for the summer most years.  Of course I haven’t been to London.  My passport has never been farther than my sock drawer.”

 

“Well you need to be certain it is up to date, because we will be leaving in a few weeks. The Goblin Market Guildsmen want me there before Christmas.”

 

 

That night at the Temple of Pizza, Nora sang Petulia Clark, Dusty Springfield, and Adele, while ignoring side-eyes from Marissa as Magnus told (heavily edited) stories of their trip to New Orleans.  

 

Normally afterwards Nora would have just headed home, but she had left the biography of Jack Parsons she was reading on her desk, so she rode back with Magnus. Otherwise she would not have almost been killed. 

 

 

Loki had, in an ill-considered fit of generosity, allowed Charles to borrow his car to drive Mrs. Beekman to the airport for her annual visit to Brazil to study Jiu Jitsu with the Gracie family, so the hired limousine lacked the mystical safety features his own vehicle had.

 

Happiness was making him sloppy, he realized after the fact when the driver stopped the car on an empty, industrial street near the river and jumped out, running for his life.

 

“What?”  Nora turned to look at him, frowning.  “That can’t be good.”  She reached for the handle.  The door wouldn’t open.  Nor would his.

 

A spike adrenalin and terror slashed through Loki’s brain.

 

He wrenched the torc from around his throat and thrust it into Nora’s hands, kicking the door off of the hinges, “Get out!” He shoved her in front of him and she sprawled in a snow bank.  “Keep your head down!”  Spinning, he transformed to his most hated self and easily gathered water from the air, using it to shove the car away from them and create a wall of ice to shield them from the blast he knew was coming.

 

Then, spinning and transforming again, he threw himself over Nora’s body just the explosion rocked the ground and splattered them with slushy muck.

 

Loki carefully rolled off of Nora, turning her over. She stared at him, her eyes enormous with dread and her lashes wet with snow.  Or tears.  She had the torc clutched in both of her hands, pressed to her chest.  “I’m not cold.”  She said, softly, as if that small, odd fact was the only one her mind could process.  She struggled to stand, ignoring his proffered hand. 

 

That hurt far more than the attack.

 

But not as much as the bolt of black energy that was aimed at his back but missed and hit Nora’s arm instead, sending her back to the ground.

 

“Nora!” He should be working out where the attacker was.  He should be counter-attacking, if not for effect so much as to buy more time, he should be incandescent with his power, tossing black magic, daggers, fire, and hate in every direction for those who would dare to advance upon him.  But he did none of those things, rooted by dread.

 

“Ow….” Nora held up the torc in one hand, “This thing really works.”

 

Loki sneered and turned lightly on his heel, stalking to the middle of the street, holding his hands out at his sides. “Come at me, cur.  Know what it is to die at my hand.”  The light from the burning car flickered over his face and he could feel through cold in the air a spot that was hotter, crouching beside a dumpster in one of the empty lots.

 

“Ah, there you are, new playfellow.” Loki stamped his foot and the broken glass and shards of metal from the car rose and flew as uncountable tiny knives into the distant body of his foe. 

 

There was no cry, just the sound of tattered skin and liquefied organs striking frozen ground, followed by a clatter of bone.

 

Pulling his phone he hit a button on his speed dial. “Kelsey?  Darling, I am going to need an emergency pick up for myself and Nora, immediately.  Bring several guns.  All your favorites.  It _was_ fun at the Temple tonight.  You sounded fine, but maybe less Katy Perry, yes?  Anyway.”

 

A few minutes later Nora walked over to him, looking in horror at the lot where their former driver was now a pile of meat.

 

Then the horror was directed at him.

 

Ah. Now that felt familiar.  Comfortable even.  Like a favorite old pair of slippers.

 

“Don’t worry, I am sure his master would have been far slower reaching the same result. You might say I was merciful.”  What he had been was sloppy and furious.  He should have taken the creature for questioning.

 

“Fuck you.” Nora muttered, sounding sick.

 

Loki grabbed her chin and held her hard, staring into her eyes, “Oh, but I thought you weren’t _ready_.”  He shoved her face away, “But anything to accommodate, _treasure._ We’ll have to hurry, Kelsey will be here soon.”  Loki reached for his zipper, sneering at her, mentally pushing at her, willing her to walk away.

 

Before Nora could speak, and before he could be more terrible, Kelsey pulled up in an armored Jeep, a Kriss Super V on her lap, and _A Little Party Never Killed Nobody_ blasting from the speakers.  “Hi, Boss.  Hi, Nora.  What a mess!”

 

 

The next few weeks were as terrible as the preceding had been good. Once Loki established that the attack had only targeted him, that Nora had once again just been his collateral damage, he set about systematically doing everything he could to keep her at arm’s length and further. 

 

On the Monday after the attack Nora had tried to apologize and thank him for saving her life. Loki was at his desk, sketching out a spell to locate the employer of the hit-creature that had been sent after him with his left hand, while writing an email to the London Guildsmen of the Goblin Market with his right.

 

“I told you once, more than once, I don’t want your apologies, or your thanks. Go back to work.   Those invoices are due in New Orleans, and you still need to call the Hive Queen.  That woman is mad for you.”  He didn’t look up from his work. 

 

It felt like he almost never looked at her these days. He also almost never appeared as himself, keeping up the illusion of Magnus even when they were alone.

 

All of their interactions were as brief and businesslike as Loki could manage. Whenever she started a conversation he would find a reason to leave the room or make an important call.

 

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving as she put on her coat the loneliness of the whole thing finally got to her. “I am going to my brother’s in California for Thanksgiving.  I am flying out tomorrow.  Any magic potions lying around?  I am going to be by myself, so-“

 

Signing and shaking his head, Loki stalked out of the room and then back a moment later, nearly slamming a small bottle on her desk, “There is your placebo. You will be back to work Monday, yes?” 

“Um, what are you doing for the holiday?” She asked.

 

But he was off on another call.

 

Nora called her brother that night and told him she couldn’t make it. She spent the day eating frozen appetizers and watching old movies, wondering if something was broken between Loki and her that couldn’t be fixed.

 

Monday came and went at work. He didn’t ask how her trip had gone, or how she had dealt with her indifferent family.  At least Nora got to eat leftover Thanksgiving food at the penthouse, Mrs. Beekman had cooked enough for twenty, but apparently only Magnus and Kelsey had eaten any of it.

 

Learning that Nora decided that chilly professionalism wasn’t such a bad plan. It was one she and Loki both carried out for weeks. 

 

Several days before they were supposed to leave for London, Loki surprised her by having Mrs. Beekman serve them tea and Mexican Wine cookies in the den. There was a fire, and it was snowing again. 

 

They sat for a long time, uncomfortable, and not speaking.

 

“At least the weather in London will probably be better than here, we haven’t had a winter like this since I was a little kid.” Nora said, sipping Darjeeling and trying to break the silence.

 

Magnus sat, legs crossed, firelight dancing on the gold in his red hair and shining on his glasses, making his blank expression look like a mask. Finally he drained his cup and set it down.

 

“It should be. But you won’t be going.  I am taking Kelsey.  I want the extra security.”  He said, and left the room.

 

“What?” Nora ran after him, “Now wait a minute, that isn’t our deal.  You have to take me.”

 

“I don’t need you for this trip. The business is better handled without you, actually, you still know so little about how the world really works it could be detrimental to my interests.  These are more sophisticated people than you are used to dealing with, Nora.  I wouldn’t want to be embarrassed.”

 

“You know that isn’t what I mean. In spite of everything I am supposed to be keeping an eye you, Your Highness.”  She spat. 

 

“And you are so good at it. I see you looking at me so sadly all day.  I can practically hear you thinking, ‘Why is he so mean to me?’  And then more sad looking.”

 

“You-“

 

“Oh, and as far as your being my babysitter, we both know you pretty much gave up any leverage in that area as soon as you got your tiny hands on it, so I don’t see what you can do about it.” He stomped back into the office, “Unless you wish to call my brother.  Go ahead.  I’ll tell Charles to put away the breakables and I’ll get ready.”  Loki dropped loosely into his chair and slammed his wrists together with a smirk.

 

“You’re right.” Nora felt her whole body slump.  “You are right.  I can’t help you in London, and the only thing I can do to keep you from going is to call Thor and have him drag you to the Isle of Silence.”  He flinched, very, very slightly, at that, “But you know I won’t.”

 

Nora went to the closet where she kept her coat and shrugged it on. “You win.  Call me when you need me.”

 

It was a personal triumph that she didn’t start crying until she got back home.

 

 

 

Eight PM in London meant two in Chicago. Loki didn’t experience jet lag, but he liked to picture what Nora was doing.   Friday.  Since she wasn’t working Loki guessed she was probably out shopping, picking up gifts to take to the CDV Holiday Karaoke Party.  He knew she had planned it at the last minute when he had disinvited her to England, Dre having called his place looking for her one day.

 

“Wha- what are you smiling about?” The man who he was holding off the ground by his collar gasped out, scratching at Loki’s black gloved hands.

 

“Just imagining a generous heart enjoying having enough money to spend on her friends for once.”

 

“Miss Walsh, sir?” Charles asked, as he took off his coat and jacket neatly folding them, and placing them on one of the folding chairs in the otherwise empty warehouse they had brought Mitchell Hall-Greene to on this dark night.

 

“Yes, Charles. I am sure Nora is one of those bizarre people who does actually enjoy giving more than receiving.  You did arrange to send her gifts before we left, yes?”

 

“Sir.” His perfect manservant was justified in his reproachful tone. He carefully unbuttoned his vest, and then started on his shirt.

 

“Of course, I am sorry, Charles. And you Mr. Hall-Greene.”  Mr. Hall-Greene had been the cause of the attack on him that had nearly killed Nora, along with several others that had Loki had twisted himself into knots keeping her unaware of.  Mr. Hall-Greene had been the former consultant to the London Goblin Market who had taken his dismissal poorly.

 

Mr. Hall-Greene who Loki held personally responsible for the wretched and wrenching time Loki had spent these last weeks, trying to ensure that the various agents, demons, vampires, assassins, sorcerers, witches, and thugs that had been sent after him would not see Nora as a valuable hostage.

 

Well, in honesty, his hurt feeling played a part in matters as well, loath as he was to admit it.

 

But now he had Mr. Hall-Greene, and Mr. Hall-Greene would have to pay for Loki’s terrible loneliness for his Nora.

 

Hence, Charles.

 

“Mr. Hall-Greene, this is Charles. Charles, this is Mr. Hall-Greene, or as you might prefer to call him, Dinner.”  Loki tossed the bastard to his servant, who neatly caught him on the fly just as he finished opening his shirt. 

 

“How do you do, sir?” Charles asked, smiling with both of his mouths, the larger one in his stomach glistening just a touch of drool.  It was clearly very hungry.

 

Loki went outside to make a call away from the noise.

 

 

Nora ignored the call, even as she wanted desperately to take it. She told herself that reception on the el was terrible anyway.  And he was probably just calling because wanted her to go to the office for something.  Obviously.

 

He didn’t leave a message.

 

He called back.

 

Again.

 

And again.

 

Finally, she picked up, hiking down State Street, “Leave me alone!” She yelled, much louder than she had planned.

 

Which caused several things to happen.

 

Several people spun to look at her like she was crazy. Loki burst out laughing on the other end of the line.  Kelsey appeared as if out of nowhere, jumping in front of Nora in a defensive position.

Kels shifted in place, looking for a target, and then smiled sheepishly, “Hi!”

 

 

Fifteen minutes later Nora was back on the phone, now sitting in the penthouse before the same fireplace that had witnessed their last, painful conversation. Now the room also housed a huge, glittering Christmas tree.

 

Mrs. Beekman had insisted on making her a hot port, saying how peaked she looked. Of course she did, Nora had not been sleeping again, because that was her body’s normal response to being unhappy. 

 

“How is London?”

 

“Dull, without you.” Loki’s voice was soft and slow, even a little peaked, too, if she wasn’t imagining it.

 

“It probably would have been more fun with Kelsey. I bet _she_ could get the Royal Guard to drop a smile.  So, why isn’t she there?”

 

“I was never taking Kelsey. My plan was always she would be there to protect you, but I knew that you would refuse if I asked you.  You can make yourself very difficult.”

 

“She told me about the other attacks. About how you thought the danger would follow you to London, and that’s why you didn’t want to take me.  And why you have been a piece of shit.”  She took a deep swig of port.  The heat went through her and for the first time in weeks her shoulders relaxed, “You should have told me.”

 

“I was angry with you, treasure, though I had no right to be. What you saw that night, you had every reason to be terrified and disgusted.  But that is a part of who and what I am.  It is I that must adjust to your horror, not you to my mine.  Forgive me.”

 

“Tell me about London. Other than the dullness.”  She yawned.

 

“You sound so tired,” his voice was a quiet croon, “maybe you should lay down.”

 

Nora stretched out on the couch, after finishing the rest of her drink, and listened to Loki describe London. The luster of its ancient and honorable Goblin Market, the new creatures, new even to him, that he had seen there, and the magicks.  He told her about the great buildings of the city, and, being Loki, Saville Row. 

 

He kept his voice soft and even and low. Nora felt herself drifting off on it.  At one point she chuckled sleepily at one of his jokes and sighed happily.

 

“Nora, how can you put up with me?” He sounded dejected and uncertain.  “Why would you keep doing it?”

 

“Don’t be silly,” she murmured dreamily, “It’s ‘cause I love you.” Even as she said it, she knew it was true.

 

And then Nora was very, very awake, sitting up.  Her heart was panicking and trying to beat itself to death against her ribs.  _No, bad, no_ , was its rhythm

 

Looking at nothing, her eyes very, very wide.

 

After what seemed like many years, Loki spoke, his voice brittle. “What did you say?”

 

“I love you.” She hung up the phone, tossing it like a burning coal.

 

 

 


	17. Ever Fallen In Love With Someone You Shouldn't Have Fallen In Love With?

Loki didn’t call back. Nora sat on the couch, not moving, looking at where her phone lay on the floor for five, then ten, then fifteen minutes, and it didn’t ring.  Not that she was planning on answering, but it cut, anyway. 

 

Finally she got up, took her cup to the kitchen and rinsed it, placed it in the strainer, all the while having a perfectly normal conversation with Mrs. Beekman. Something about Christmas plans and gift wrapping and she had no idea what she was saying.  But it must have been fine because Mrs. Beekman seemed not to notice that Nora’s heart was alternately thudding a doom-filled bass line, or just lying there in her chest, just barely pumping.

 

When she left the building, crunching through the snow in the park, Nora called out, “Kelsey, I swear to god I will spend the next three months learning how to shoot a gun and I will then use these new found skills to kill you.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Nora.” Kelsey had somehow managed to hide herself behind a tree.  Without disturbing the snow around it.  Nora would have been impressed if she could have managed to care about anything.  “Magnus will kill me, too, if I let you go around alone.”

 

“They caught the guy. I have no doubt Magnus is doing something horrible to him right now.  Something horrible and disgusting.  Horrible, disgusting, and improbable.”  Her voice drifted off for a bit, trying to focus on that.  Nope.  Nothing.  All she could think about was how she was the stupidest person to ever live in the history of all living things.  “Just fuck off, I can’t deal with company right now.  I will tell Magnus I got mugged while I was out shopping because you were too busy trying on Uggs to help me.”

 

“Nora! That’s just mean.” Kelsey closed her eyes and shook her head, her voice lowering a bit and her tone slowing down, “I swear I didn’t always sound like a Trixie.  It’s like I’m stuck.  Anyway, seriously, I can’t just stop following you because-“

 

“Fine! Whatever!  I am going to the Christmas party that you weren’t invited to, anyway.”  Nora said, spitefully. 

 

“That’s mean, too.” Kelsey’s voice trailed off behind her as she headed to Michigan Ave. to catch a cab.

 

 

The Temple was packed with families, happy couples, and other parties of holiday revelers. Only a substantial bribe had ensured the CDV group their usual table.  A substantial bribe fortified by promises of large tips for their waiters.  

 

Nora was late, having spent most of the early part of the evening wandering around in the slush and snow, her brain a mass of white noise that occasionally produced the words, “I love you.”

 

How had this happened? Nora knew, sort of, when she had started to _like_ Loki, to consider him a friend, which had happened sometime when he was helping her pack up her house, listening to her stupid family stories, dusting, and wrapping glasses in newspaper. She had looked over at him, hugely tall, long hair in a braid to keep it out of his way, staring with confusion at a stack of old board games.  Candyland seemed to especially perplex him.  It was endearing and funny as hell.

 

And Nora knew when she started to be attracted to Loki. That was when she saw him in the Stuttgart footage….

 

Shit, there was another thing that she would probably blurt out to him at some point, giving him yet another bit of hilariously humiliating information to hold over her, as he surely would with this bombshell.

 

She could just picture her future. They would be working and suddenly Loki would ask her to do something for him.  Get him a coffee, rub his shoulders, and he would trill in a low voice.  “I know you won’t mind, pet, since you loooovvvveeee me…..” 

 

The thought of the endless teasing and renewed come ons had Nora wondering how long it would take for her to drive to her brother Sam’s house in Alaska. Or if maybe she could drug herself up enough to fly to Tristan da Cuhna and just never come back.

 

When she finally got herself together enough to go to the party, Nora was surprised to see Mr. Choe there as well as the usual group. Apparently he and Loretta had been spending time together on the sly since Eddie’s memorial.

 

“Her kids don’t like it, ‘cause they’re racists,” he said putting his arm around Loretta’s shoulders.

 

“Black people can’t be racists, fool. They don’t like it because you are too old for me.”  Loretta said, swatting his chest.

 

“They can be.” He argued back. “Your son keeps pretending he thinks I am Japanese.  If he offers me sake one more time I am going to show him I’m not too old to beat his ass.”

 

“He’s three times the size of you, and half your age.”

 

“Yet, but I am wiry.”

 

And then Marissa showed her the ring, with Dre smiling shyly from across the table.

 

“Yeah, it is pretty nice. So I am guessing his mom helped pick it out.”  She held her hand splayed out before Nora, her long, brown fingers the perfect setting for the lovely sapphire.  “But, papi, you better know that this is NOT my Christmas present.  I was getting this ring either way.”

 

“You made that very clear, Rissa.” Dre said, while accepting Nora’s hug and congratulations.  She hoped she sounded sincere, even though she felt a little sick.  Her life had suddenly turned into one of those stupid British Christmas Rom Coms.  Everyone was hooking up and falling for each other and she was the embarrassing to watch comic relief storyline about the woman who falls in love with the guy who is way out of her league when he just wants to hook up.

 

Nora managed to nibble the edge of a slice, and drink a little water, but her stomach was churning too much for anything more. At one point she did cheer up a bit listening to Mr. Choe and Loretta’s naughty version of “Baby, its Cold Outside.”  But every time someone tried to get her up to sing she begged off, pretending she was getting a sore throat.

 

She couldn’t make herself sing “Run, Run Rudolph,” and the Buzzcocks’ song that had been the mental soundtrack to her night would be a buzzkill for all of her friends’ new found love stories.

 

Finally, Marissa couldn’t take it, “Ok, girl, what is going on with you? You are acting like someone just shot a kitten that you had just nursed through a long illness, so what?  And don’t say nothing.”

 

“It’s L-“ that was close, “It’s love.  You’re all in love and I just told Magnus I’m in love with him.  Out of nowhere I just blurted it out.  Like an idiot.”

 

“What?” Marissa leaned further across the table.  “I thought he was in England or some shit?”

 

“He is, he called to, we had a fight before he left and he called to apologize. And then I just said it.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Nothing. I am just hoping that I can think of something to say to him when he gets back to minimize the damage.”

 

“Um, I don’t think that is going to happen.”

 

“I know. What could I say?”

 

“Not that, you’re the smartest person I ever met. It’s just you won’t have time to think of it, because, and I want you to just keep looking at me and nod and smile like I am being my usual amazing self, because he is here.”  Marissa spoke slowing, nodding and smiling the whole time, but she grabbed Nora’s hands and squeezed.

 

“That’s not possible!” Of course it was, it was fucking Loki.  Any dreadful and unlikely thing was probable.

 

“He’s stuck by the door, but you know people are just going to get out of his way. He’s scary sometimes.  Right now, he looks pretty damned terrifying.  I want you to not look behind you, but just pick up your bag, I got your coat, and don’t make a big deal, but we are going to head to the kitchen.”

 

“Why?” Nora’s heart was so loud she wasn’t sure she was hearing Marissa correctly.

 

“They have a back-door in there, and I am getting you out of here.” Then she turned to the rest of the table, “Hey, look, Magnus!”  Marissa cried out, knowing that the others at the table would unwittingly run interference for them, wanting to greet their richest and most generous friend.

 

Marissa snaked Nora through the crowd with the skill and style of a top ranked NFL quarterback and the vicious focus of a woman attending an after Christmas sale at the Mall of America.

 

Just she was about to push into the kitchen their waiter, a tall blonde who was clearly an actor, blocked them, “Sorry, ladies but the kitchen is off limits.”

 

“Listen,” Marissa said, leaning in to read his name tag, “ _Micah_ , my friend told her boss earlier today that she was in love with him, in what could only be a moment of insanity, and he is here now.”  She turned and pointed at Magnus, who was trying to extract himself from Chelsea and Dre, somehow managing to smile at them and scowl at Nora at the same time.  “So I _need_ to get her out of here.”

 

“That guy?” Actor/Waiter’s voice squeaked a bit as he got an eyeful of beautiful Magnus, who was incandescent with barely controlled rage, smile or no.

 

“Yup.”

 

He grabbed Nora’s hand, “Come with me, we’re getting you out of here” They ran into the chaos of the kitchen, “Make a hole. Serious romantic crisis coming through.” He shoved Nora out of the employee entrance, where she took a brain settling inhale of the smoke from a bar-backs who were taking a break.  “There is always a cab hanging around at the end of the alley.”  Then he clutched Nora’s arms, “Good luck and don’t look back.”

 

Nora pulled her coat on and raced through the half-melted puddles, seeing the light from the taxi sign like salvation.

 

As she neared the mouth of the alley a tall, elegant figure pivoted around the corner of the building. She stopped running and walked slowly towards him, feeling like she was in a western and had forgotten to strap on her six guns that morning.

 

 

Walking between the worlds was dangerous and foolhardy even with a great deal of preparation.   If you didn’t have your destination clearly in mind, or allowed even the slightest distraction to enter your thoughts, you could easily be lost there forever.

 

Loki had always loved doing it, knowing that it was his will versus the emptiness of no place, no time, and no beginning or end. He enjoyed the rituals used to assemble one’s thoughts and emotions, and then those tools used to open the door.  The carefully prepared sacred ink and parchment, the candle made with wax from bees that had feed only on certain rare flowers.  The carefully chosen and gently killed sacrificial animal…

 

So hastily using a Sharpie, the flashlight app on his phone, and some as yet undigested bits of Mr. Hall-Greene was not optimal.

 

Then again, Loki had also always loved risky moves.

 

Until now. Travelling through the empty brown and yellow air of the between, rushing when he should have been walking steadily, his mind racing when it should have been peaceful. 

 

Who did Nora think she was exactly?

 

Who. Did. She. Think. She. Was? He had apologized to her, but clearly that wasn’t good enough.  She was still angry and now was playing with him for revenge.

 

A bit of a growl escaped him.

 

She loved him!

 

HA! He heard her voice again in his head, first sleepy and warm, and then alert and empty.

 

She was playing games with the wrong god!

 

When he arrived outside of the Temple, after having almost taken a door that opened into a volcano on Niflheim, he was surprised to see Kelsey standing outside looking sadly in the windows. “Boss!”

 

“Kels.” He walked passed her, not bothering to get a report.

 

Loki watched Nora’s pitiable escape attempt, and caught Marissa’s eye flashing at him. He nodded in respect for a well-meaning if over-matched opponent.

 

When he stopped her in the alley, (because where else would Marissa be taking her but to run from him? All wise maidens ran from monsters) Nora just stood there, looking like she was waiting for a blow, for a scathing insult, for him to be terrible.

 

But.

 

“What?” She was looking at him, “Did you come all of this way to stand in the snow and stare at me with that weird look on your face?  Because that seems pretty eccentric even for you.”  She crossed her arms and quirked her lips.

 

“No.” His own voice sounded soft and creaky to him, “I came here to rage at you.  To say the worst things I could think of.  Even worse than I have already said.  To hurt you in ways that you would never imagine or see coming.”

 

Nora gave a little gasp and took a step back, “Why?”

 

“Because I _must_ take my revenge in the most disproportionate way, treasure.  It’s my signature.  How I have written my name across the Realms.”

 

“No, I know that, I mean why on me? Why punish me because I’m…. Oh god, you don’t believe me.”  Nora put her hand to her mouth, and gave a sound that was sob and a laugh.  “Of course you don’t.  Fine, do your worst.  I give up with you.”  Nora spread her arms behind her, like a bird spreading its wings, and stared him in the eye.  Clearly a touch of his personal drama was rubbing off on her.

 

He spun on his heel and walked away, fast, fast, and using every bit of will not to grab the winds to spur his heels, to make himself faster, to get away. He had to get away.  The snowy street was busy, and he forced his way through, using his shoulders and glare to create a path and he walked and walked and forced himself to not run from the woman he had left behind.

 

“Hey!”

 

Who he hadn’t left behind. Loki froze, turning slowly.  What did she want from him?

 

“What do you want from me?” He bellowed in her face, irritably waving Kelsey away when she sprang out to defend Nora and him. 

 

They only needed protection from each other, a service she couldn’t provide.

 

“Nothing.” Nora yelled back at him, standing on her toes to push the word up.  “I’m just worried!”  She kept yelling.

 

“Why?” More bellowing, more people taking their pictures and filming them.  Loki cocked his head and curled his lip and quite suddenly they were alone on the street.

 

“Because even for you this is pretty strange.” Nora settled back and sounded concerned.  Looked concerned.

 

What was wrong with this woman? Was she mad?  Worried about him, when he could squash her like a bug and not even notice the smear?  Who knew better than she what he was?  What he could, would, do? 

 

“Heh!” He made a dismissive sound and waved Nora off as well.  “Go back to your friends, Nora.  Have a lovely Yule.”

 

Nora considered for a minute, and then shook her head, “No, I want to be with you.” And she reached out somehow slipping her fingers into his tightly clenched fist, which she lifted to her lips.  “I get it now.  I was expecting to be mocked, weeks of fun at the stupid Mortal who DARES to be in love with a god, oh, and let’s not forget a king.  But you, you already think I’m mocking you, don’t you?  What a delicate flower you are.  And what an idiot.” 

 

Then she reached up and cupped his chin and smiled at him, a slow, soft smile.

 

Something occurred to him, something that didn’t seem …right? Logical?  His voice was soft, and he found himself rageless and his hands were shaking at the sight of her and he knew something impossible.

 

She had meant it.

 

Nora loved him.

 

“Oh,” he breathed out.

 

“Oh,” she nodded. “And there is nothing you can do about it.”

 

“But what if I don’t want it. This love.”  He jerked his head back with a sneer, determined to save them both from her foolishness.

 

“You don’t have any say in the matter. It’s yours now.  You only get to decide one thing.”

 

“Really? And what’s that, you ludicrous thing?” 

 

“If I you are going to take me to bed tonight, or if now you’re the one who isn’t ready.” Nora’s smile was as beyond his ken, as was her heart. 

 

Loki knew he was utterly lost.

 

“Taxi.” He croaked out.

 

 

 


	18. Isn’t That So Much Better Than the Limbo We Were Living In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex, snacking, and being un-beta'd.

The cab was dirty with age, and smelled of Nag Champa and weed. The driver had a thick Canadian accent and spent most of the drive talking French into his phone.  He was recording a podcast on the supernatural in the United States.

Under other circumstances Loki would have found it hilarious and toyed with the boy for a while. But instead he found himself looking out the window, not looking at Nora.  He didn’t want to see her expression.  As long as he didn’t see it he could convince himself that she wasn’t scared, wasn’t sorry.

As long as he didn’t touch her he didn’t have to worry about her shaking, or her skin being cold.

Nora waited for him on the sidewalk while he paid, and when he stood up she grabbed his lapels, stood on the toes of her boots, her brown eyes serious, “Kiss me. I can’t be the one going first every time.  You have to kiss me.”

He kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her so her toes dangled and her body was pressed hard enough against him to stop her breath, and he gave her his in place of it.  He kissed her for every time he had wanted to and resisted the temptation (not a strong suit for him), he kissed her for every time he had thought she needed to be kissed, or even just held, and hadn’t because he knew she would step away, he kissed her for every time he knew she wanted something from him and denied herself.  One kiss, pulling, pushing, a bite pulling her full lower lip, and then a comforting lick.  His tongue deep in her mouth, and then retreating, luring her to follow, and then her drawing him back, drawing him on, wherever she needed him to be.

A long car horn blast sounded, and Loki spun, still holding Nora, to see their cab driver applauding and stomping, “Damn, if I ever do an episode on fucking I need to find you two!” He called out before peeling away.

Nora dropped her head to his neck and giggled.

Nora giggled and Loki knew that anything was possible.

 

_The penthouse had been decked out for the holidays. The polished wood gleamed like red honey in the light from the fireplace, and the pine swags and the huge juniper tree before the balcony windows made the room smell like a northern forest._

_Behind her, Nora heard the displacement of air as Loki shifted back to his own form. “Ahhhh… that is better.”  She could hear the sensuous exhale as he stretched, his voice deepening and his musical accent shifting back with him.  “Seeing you with my own eyes is always so much better.”  He walked up to her, green eyes hooded._

_Nora roughly tore off her parka and plopped ungracefully on to the couch, suddenly wanting to put him off, “I was thinking-“_

_Loki dropped next to her, pulling her across his lap in the same motion, “Oh, no. Don’t.”  He held her there, sprawled, staring into her eyes.  Finally, after four months of cat and mouse, no, tiger and mouse, Nora couldn’t any more.  What little resistance she had left, after their ‘discussion’, she didn’t so much lose as release._

_She was his. They both knew it._

_Nora was expecting him to kiss her again, but no kiss came. Instead he held her there, holding her arms behind her back while he unbuttoned her cardigan and then blouse so they hung open, then placing the tips of his graceful fingers on the hollow of her throat.  She could feel the tiniest roughness of callouses on them.  Very slowly he stroked her there, just the hollow for a few strokes, then each stroke growing a bit longer, but in the minutest of increments.  As if he had eternity to touch her and was going to use every second of it._

_And all the while Loki’s gaze was impassive as he studied her face. Only his eyes were burning.  The burning green of a summer jungle._

_Every inch of her body longed to be touched as her neck, her breastbone, were being brushed.   It felt as if it were.  The soft strokes radiated out and ached.  Nora wanted to strip off her clothes and rub herself over him like a cat.  He wouldn’t even have to do anything, he could sit there and check his social media while she did it and that would be fine with her._

_It occurred to Nora that that might be a bit pathetic and looked away._

_Loki stopped stroking her and firmly turned her face back to his, “I said don’t think, treasure.”_

_“I hate it when you call me that, you know.”_

_“Of course, that’s why I do it.” He grinned, and then started stroking again, this time with four fingers,_

_“Now, Nora, have I ever told you my favorite sexual activity?”_

_“Surprisingly, no-ah!” She found herself arching up into his hand as he circled her left nipple through her bra.  If it felt that good with the bra on she was never going to survive the night._

_Or the next ten minutes, as he slid his touch under the top of the cup and just brushed the very tip of her nipple over and over. Nora’s head lolled back, too heavy to hold up, and she moaned.  It was too much._

_“Guess.” His voice, velvet with just the slightest touch of sandpaper, went straight between her legs and Nora trembled._

_“You? Oral.”  Her voice was husky and faint, as she pulled enough of her mind together to think._

_“Mmmm, good guess, but no,” Loki eased her onto the couch so he could stretch out along her, nuzzling against her ear and neck. “Try again.”  He spoke so slowly and gently, as to someone falling asleep._

_Nora pushed throat into his lips, which touched her as lightly as his fingers had. She made a frustrated noise, she needed so much more._

_She tried to think of the names of sexual acts, but she could only picture them. All of them.  She moaned, “I can’t.”_

_“Ah, now you are finally not thinking,” he kissed her, finally. His tongue licked into her, also slow, also in ever longer strokes.  She moaned again, and he took it and returned it to her.  “Sweet Nora,” he suckled on her tongue._

_His hand left her breast, and she felt herself seeking it, while also enjoying moment of relief at the same time. She was able to think.   Just a bit._

_“What is it? What is your favorite?”_

_He lifted up and looked at her, burning, and giving that dry, dirty laugh of his, with a smile that gave her pause. Then he lay back down and whispered close in her ear, “Edging.”_

_Nora gulped. Audibly._

The pagan splendor of Loki’s bedroom suddenly seemed overwhelming. As he lay her on his bed, Nora found herself tensing up again.  She did not belong here.  Her little grey wool skirt and sweater, her hiking boots swinging where her feet dangled over the edge, ridiculous.  Surrounded by velvet, furs, and linen that breathed Loki’s scent of cool stone and old forests, ridiculous.

This was a bed for a god to make wild love to a goddess on, not for consummating a flirtation with a customer service manager.

“Um, say, you know that guest room you have? I have always LOVED that room, let’s go there.”

“No.” Loki stood, just watching her. Considering.  Nora looked side to side, not sure what to do.  Why was he just looking at her? 

“Wha-“ He knelt and untied her boots, sliding them off and tossing them into the corner, then pulled off what was left of her tights, and nuzzled against the inside of her knees, slowly spreading them, and then reaching up and drawing his finger down her skirt, from the waistband to the hem.  It fell open like the pages of a book, leaving her naked from the waist down.

“Take off your blouse, and that dreadful bra. Clearly you were not planning on being seen in it tonight.”  He murmured the insult into her the skin inside Nora’s legs like the most erotic endearment.  For a few breaths she just lay there, unable to look away from the sight of his black masses of hair trailing over her pale legs. When she didn’t move he nipped, hard.

Nora jumped, and then stripped off the rest of her clothes, “Play nice,” she whispered, stroking his hair again, now that she could do it at will. It _felt_ black, like the darkest thing possible.

“Oh, treasure, never.” His voice was a sorry croon.  “Not even for you.  But you will thank me for it, I promise.”  His pointed tip of his tongue licked into her navel, as he crawled his way up her, and then stopped, holding himself over her body so he could see her.

“You have no idea how many nights I have lain here wanting you. Stroking myself, teasing myself, with the idea of you, Nora.  I have never wanted any lover as I want you, something about your smell, the texture of your skin, that unbreakable look in your eyes.”  He lowered his head just touch, still holding his body off of hers, making her lift her head, making her mouth seek his lips, her tongue thrust between his lips, the moan leaving her to fly upwards to him. 

Surrounded by Loki’s body, hard as a cage, Nora’s head dropped back down, “I want to see you, too.”

Long fingers circled her breast, moving from the outside in to the very tip of her nipple, pinching it hard and then softly in a rhythm that her cunt started to match. “Not yet, treasure, not yet,” he stretched himself out beside her and then rolled her over.  “You aren’t ready for me, and once I am naked, once I feel your skin on mine, I am not going to try and stop myself.” 

Nora lay on her stomach while Loki took a carnal inventory of her body, soothing a long palm on her ass, and then tapping his hand on it somewhere between a pat and a spank, licking the pattern made by the freckles on her right shoulder, giving sharp, quick bites to the back of her thighs, and then sliding his fingers under her to stroke her clit while he ground his still clothed erection into her. She backed into it, helpless, and when he rolled her back to face him, made a near sob.

“I can’t wait,” she started to unbutton his shirt, but he took her hands off of him, and held them at her sides.

“No.”

“This is some kind of revenge, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I am taking terrible revenge on myself.”  He sighed against her mouth.   And her neck.  And her breasts as he sucked each, practically pulling her out of her body, “terrible, cruel revenge.” He sighed against her stomach and each hip, and finally, between her thighs as he pressed his lips between her legs and told her body secrets that it had taken him hundreds of years to learn.  Secrets of pleasure delayed, increased, pleasure that transforms from pain that transforms from suffering itself.  Pleasure that transforms both the receiver and the giver, altering, binding, devastating pleasure.

He held her in that place forever. Nora no longer remembered where she was, or where she had ever been before, only that her skin, where it touched velvet or fur, was alive with bliss, that the back of her calf stroking the cotton his Loki’s shirt was ecstasy.   She writhed against his mouth and he chuckled.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she thought, “please,” the pleasure cooling just a bit.

“No, treasure, at myself.”

“I didn’t mean to-“ Had she said that out loud?  How humiliating.  Loki stood up, and she was cold and alone for a moment.  But he gave her a so soft smile and started to undress.

“I am laughing at how many nights I spent trying to conjure the image of your rapture and realizing that I have far less imagination than I credit myself with. Nothing was close to how beautiful you taste, how your skin looks as you undulate in the firelight, and the sounds!  Your singer’s murmurs and gasps.”

Nora’s mouth went dry and her already too aroused body ached when he finished undressing. How could he be more beautiful naked?  No wonder he took so much care with his clothing, he was attempting the impossible task of reflecting all of that that!

Even his cock, large as she had already been made aware, was somehow elegant. Not possible, and unfair.

She no longer felt gloriously naked, she felt inadequate and stripped.

“No.” This time the ‘no’ was not gentle.  “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.” His voice was matter of fact. She hadn’t realized she had closed them.  She slowly edged them apart.  Suddenly impatient Loki knelt, resting on his heels, and pulled her up to his hips, one leg around his waist, the other hugged to his chest and over his shoulder.  He again bit the same spot inside her knee, his thumb working her clit hard until she was heaving upwards, trying for more contact, wetness flooding her, soaking his cock where it sat just below her. 

“I hope you are ready, treasure,” he breathed, positioning her as he wanted to thrust in.

“Wait.” She put up a hand, and he gave her the look of a serpent that had been trod upon while sleeping in the sun.  She drew a finger up the side of his cock, gathering a just a little precum which she licked clean, her eyes on his the whole time.  Oh, he tasted so good!

He moaned, green eyes black with need and couched himself in her in one long, wailing thrust.

God, had she ever been so swollen, so full, so desparate? Not even as a girl making out for the first time in Eggers Grove, urgently kissing a boy as if she would die without him. 

Loki tilted her hips farther upward, hitting her g-spot as if he was the one who placed it there for his own use later, and his long fingers stroked her clit again, but much more slowly than he fucked her, so the two things refused to join, the two pleasures distracting from each other and increasing. She bent her back, and grabbed at his knees, and the pillow, and the mattress, at any touch of reality and he with the slowness of his own road through life brought the two together and sent her howling into a shuddering, clutching mess of exaltation. 

He rearranged her legs again, and arched over her. “Sweet Nora,” he crooned against her temple. Her eyes were unfocused and she could tell that the strain was showing in his jaw, his beautiful jaw, the lines of his graceful neck, the set of his broad shoulder.  "Again,” and he gently slid back in, stroking her hair back when she made a sound of distress at the ache, rocking into her in small, steady moves.

“I- I can’t.” Her voice was gone, the words were just shaped breath.  “I don’t usually, twice, I mean-“

“No. You can,” his dark voice in her ear, whispering, “Your beautiful cunt wants to come and come.  It wants to hold me tight and never let me go.  Let if hold me, let go and come apart for me, I have you.  I have you.”

She came again, this time in soft eddies and waves.

Loki pulled out, and kissing her neck, ignoring her mouth as she tried to draw him into a kiss, turned her over again and entered her from behind, his hips grinding hers into his hand, his fingers almost bruising her clit. “One more.”

He pounded on her, fucking her now, no tenderness, no finesse, just blind need and will. There was nothing soft to his voice or body as he took her where he willed.

 “With me you can do anything.  And you are coming again before we are done.  Once for Each. Month. Now. Come!”  He punctuated each word with a thrust that hit her some place so deep inside of her that she didn’t know it was there and she came in a gush of fluid and a scream buried in the velvet blanket.  Over her own voice she heard another, guttural, feral, shouting her name and felt Loki collapse to the side, rolling her into his arms, and burying his face in her hair.

 

Loki woke several hours later. Nora was gone.

No. No.  She was not doing this to him.

He threw back the blankets and stormed towards the hall, creating the illusion of clothing, being in too great a hurry to dress, and grabbed his car keys. She had no idea the forces she was playing with!  He would have her back in his bed, tied there if she couldn’t be trusted, (which she couldn’t!) before dawn.

He whipped the door open, started to barge out, when a confused voice came from behind him, “Where are you going?”

“Um.” Nora was in the hallway, naked, holding a sandwich.  “What is that?”

“Pastrami with cheese, a sort of make-shift Ruben. I didn’t really have any pizza tonight.”  She took a big bite.

“Ah, yes, I should have thought to feed you. Is that enough, I could make something?  Are you warm?  You must be cold.“  He blathered.

“You thought I left didn’t you?” She smiled at him like he was an idiot.  He froze in the act of taking his coat off.

“Perhaps.”

“You were just going to storm to my place. Right?”  She moved closer to him.

“It seemed-“

“My clothes are still in shreds on your floor. My bag is right there,” she pointed to the small table he had just grabbed his keys from.  “Did I teleport?”

“Upon further reflection it seems I overreacted.”

“Really? You?  That’s unprecedented.  Well, put that beautiful, broken brain of yours to rest, I’m not going anywhere.”  Smiling hard enough to be laughing, Nora tucked her naked body in his coat, “Want half of my sandwich?”  She held it to his mouth.

Loki tore off a huge bite and then lifted Nora into his arms and carried her back to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW - if you aren't reading this - http://archiveofourown.org/works/8271652/chapters/18950143
> 
> or 
> 
> This - http://archiveofourown.org/works/7983244/chapters/18266017
> 
> You clearly don't like hot men, kinky sex, or yourself. My ladies are amazing.


	19. I See All The Weakness I Turned Into Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, a bit short, and very close to the end of this story.

Loki tried not to wake Nora, much as he wished to. He wished to pull her towards him and bury his face in her hair, to slowly pull her thigh over his hip, to stroke between her legs gently, softly, as if to lull her back to sleep whilst also arousing her, to feel her come in that defenseless state, to watch her face as she returned back to herself, warm and utterly exposed.  And then to stab into her, deep and hard, catching her again, not giving her time to gather herself, but to take her at her most vulnerable and unguarded. 

He wanted it desperately.

But Nora slept badly, he knew, and at the moment she was so perfectly asleep that he could not do it. She was even frowning a bit, as if holding on to that sleep with a will.  To disturb her seemed plainly mean.

By Bor, but there were times Loki missed being plainly mean. Nora had destroyed him.  He would never forgive her for it, he thought as he quietly slipped from the bed and forwent his usual bath, since the noise would wake her, and took a shower instead.  He felt like a farm animal being hosed down, but if he didn’t remove the combination of their scents from his skin he _would_ be waking her, or unable to walk.

Mrs. Beekman was unusually quiet as she brought his various breakfast trays to the small dining room, and then proceeded to dither. Finally, unable to either read the various news items that had accumulated on his tablet, or enjoy the new hot pepper bacon he had been looking forward to, he sighed.

“You have something you wish to say, yes?”

Mrs. Beekman folded her hands, her impressive biceps straining the flowered pattern on her cardigan out of shape, “Mr. Rassmussen, I am know this is neither my place nor my business, but it seems that Miss Walsh spent the night here?”

“She did.” Loki sipped coffee, using the illusion of Magnus’s face to hide his annoyance.

“And it appears she did not spend the night in the guest room. Either.”  The woman’s accent and tone were so clipped the edges would be dangerous to touch.

“She did not.”

“I’ll pop in some of those muffins she likes. I still have the batter in the icebox.  Sir.”  She started to leave, but Magnus put up a hand.

“I think that is not all you have on your mind. I would prefer to hear it now than to be dodging disappointed looks until New Year.  And I won’t have you treating Nora as if you feel she has done something untoward.”

“Miss Walsh is a lovely woman. I would never -, she is not the-  Sir!”  She stepped closer and leaned over the table.  “You treat her well, or big as you are I’ll flip you from here to next summertime, sir!  Now I have muffins to make.”

“Please. And try to stave off beating me to a pulp until Nora wakes up.  It might get noisy.”

Apparently Nora was very determinedly asleep, or the soundproofing on his bedroom was even stronger than he thought, because at some point she must have cleared Marissa and Dre with the building security, since about twenty minutes later they were pounding on his door.

Since Charles was still in London, Loki opened the door himself, shushing them. “Quiet, Nora is sleeping!”  He hissed, waving them into the library.

Marissa was furious, and Dre had the worn look of a man who had spent most of his night and all of his morning trying to reason with an explosion disguised as a woman.

“Before you say anything, what exactly do you think happened between Nora and I that is either any of your business, or a reason for you to be concerned on her behalf?” Loki asked in his calmest and therefor more annoying tone. 

“I think you took advantage of her feelings for you, you Swedish piece of crap!” Marissa growled.  “You have been trying to get in her pants since the first time you saw her!”

“If memory serves me, and it always does, you were in favor of Nora adjoining with me. And I am a Norwegian piece of crap.  Racist.”

“That was before she was in love with you! She hadn’t been with anyone, hadn’t even really had a date, since New York,” Loki felt a tightness in his lungs, “and I thought you were her type and looked dirty so it would be good for her.  And you’re rich.  So whatever!  But she’s in love with you and she told you, and suddenly you’re all racing back from fucking England and being all a dangerous motherfucker and now you could hurt her!  A lot!”

At some point Marissa’s rage outraced her eloquence, but Loki understood. “Yes, I could.  I could hurt her terribly, and in ways that you could not possibly understand.  I could destroy her.” 

“But?” Marissa glared at him.

“But nothing. I could do all of those things, and I don’t know that I trust myself not to.  But Nora trusts me not to.  And she has better judgement than I do, or you do, so I am going to trust in that.”

“I-“ Marissa stopped and crossed her arms, “Ok, fine.   But how do I know –“  She lifted her jaw aggressively, “Tell me one thing about Nora that you would only know if you cared about her.”

“When she was a little girl she wanted to live in Colleen Moore’s dollhouse, and she would run away to the Museum of Science and Industry to see it whenever she was sad or lonely for her family. Her aunt’s friend Bartholomew told me about it at Nora’s house party, when I asked him to tell me what she was like as a child.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, indeed, shit. Now, can I offer you either breakfast, or a coffee at least?” 

Twenty minutes and a few muffins and some coffee later, Marissa was using the washroom when Dre finally spoke. “I like you Magnus.  You and Nora make sense, ‘cause your both smart, and I like that you laugh at her jokes, but if you do end up hurting her I’ll kill you.”

Loki threw his head back and laughed, clapping Dre on the shoulder, “You have no idea how homesick you’ve just made me, my friend.”

 

After they left, Loki looked for Nora’s phone and then through her contacts. He found what he was looking for under the listing, “Handyman.”

The phone rang once, “Mistress Nora? Where are-“

“I haven’t done anything wrong, and Nora is completely well. Brother.”

There was a long silence on the other end. In fact Loki couldn’t recall Thor ever being so entirely quiet for so long, save when hunting.   Then a surprisingly small voice said, “How are you Loki?”

Now it was his turn to be an unlikely mute. Finally, “I am better than I should be.  And you?”

“Very well. Jane is in Australia, I may join her for Christmas.  She wishes to teach me to do something called surfing.”

“You should go.” Look at us, pretending to be people, Loki thought.

“I will. Assuming nothing else should demand my attentions.”

“I have no plans to try and take over this or any other realm,” for now, he thought, “I simply wanted to … I owe you an apology.”

“You already apologized, right before the last time you ‘died’ on me.” Thor had clearly been spending too much time with Stark.  Loki could hear the scare quotes around ‘died’.

“Not for – I want to apologize for what I said about Jane. About how you should say goodbye.  I am sorry for it.”

Again more silence than was normal for them. It was as if trying not shouting at each other made it impossible for them to have a conversation now.

“Loki, are you-“

“Goodbye, brother, my best to Doctor Foster.”

He hung up, waited to see if Thor would call back.

He didn’t.

But there was a text.

**I Have Missed You.**

 

Nora finally shuffled out of the bedroom around one, just in time for lunch, wearing the same tunic and leggings he had given her when she had slept in front of his fire those months before.

She dropped into the chair at the table and yawned. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing important. Have some of the soup, you look cold.”

“That’s because you keep this place like a fridge just so you can have all of the fireplaces going.” Then she looked at him as if just remembering something.  “Um.”  She got up and walked around the table and leaned down to kiss his cheek.  Her lips were a bit dry and he could feel just a bit of moisture from the smooth inside of the lower one. 

He groaned, suddenly hard and uninterested in eating. He turned into the kiss, catching her mouth before she could slide away, and gathered her onto his lap.   “Nora, you have no idea how much of a temptation you were to me all morning.  I wanted to wake you so badly, so wickedly.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was husky and she pressed her mouth to his jaw, then bit it, her hands tangling in his hair.

“You were sweetly sleeping, I hated to wake you.”

She stopped and stared at him, incredulous. “You didn’t want to wake me up because you didn’t want to _wake me up_?”

“Yes.”

“My big bad villain,” she murmured in his ear, “the man who wanted to rule the world, the man with the big stick and the scary horns, didn’t want to disturb my sleep.” Nora slithered out of his lap, down to the floor, “I believe this is the pose you like?” she knelt at his feet, giving him a look both insolent and libidinous, stretching her both of hands to stroke his cock through his trousers, and then unzipping him as he groaned and arched, her warm hands now on him. “I haven’t done this in a long time, so bear with me.” 

“Nora, there is no-“ but then her mouth was on him, her soft lips kissing along his shaft and then taking in the head and suckling at it, while her one hand stroked him and the other pressed into his chest. She made no attempt to take him deeper than a few inches, using her clever tongue to tease and stroke and madden him.  The heat of her mouth made him want to thrust, to force her, but he grabbed the arm of the chair and held himself still, the wood moaning with his efforts, while his other hand grabbed her already bed-mussed hair and pulled just a bit, wanting her to climb back in his lap. 

“Uh, ummmm,” she purred around him, keeping her mouth on him, but now moving faster, her tongue flicking against the underside of his shaft, her hands faster, and the humming from her running straight through him, to his testicles, to his brain, to his need, and he gave her what they both wanted, heaving and spending in her mouth.

Afterwards she leaned her cheek against his calf, and he stroked her hair, his chest still heaving. “I think you have figured out a way to insure I will never disturb your sleep.  Bravo.”

“Help me up, I really need some coffee and food.”  Her voice was dreamy and humorous, and they smiled at each other, as if this was all the most normal thing in Midgard.

“And after lunch, a bath…”


	20. : Don’t Tell Me You Don’t Know What Love Is When You’re Old Enough To Know Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-d chapter is once again un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

January 6, 2014

 

The Titan had made some joke, had some Midgardian phrase, which he always muttered before a session began and then the burning started, as it always did, with his feet.

It wasn’t flame, but hot metal, not red or white hot, but black hot, so hot it seemed more than cold and it seemed unrecognizable as a sensation and it seemed to melt away his skin and tendon and turn his blood into mist and set the bone alight and then to ash and all the while every nerve was aware and screaming and burning and screaming and burning and screaming and –

And then his hands burned. The tips of his fingers like candlewicks, the fine, black hot metal turning the flesh between his fingers into liquid skin and fat that dripped into acid streaks down his arms and onto his chest and the metal made its way between the phalanges to the wrist bone and then twisted and the heat made the bones brittle and his hands broke from his arms, burning with wildfire and the ashes of his own charred skin caught in his lips and mouth and throat and choked and burned from the inside and there was screaming and burning and he smelled himself cooking and he screamed around soot and burning –

“Loki!”

He looked at his tormentor, tried to see through the smoke coming from his own bones, and tried to strain and bite and save himself and he was failing again and again and _screaming_ –

“Loki! Goddamn it!  Wake up!  Wake up!  Ah, _fuck_!”  The last was a wail of pain.  Not his own.  “Please!  Loki, please wake up!”  Not his own.  Not a voice he hated.  A voice distressed and afraid and it made his mind rave with need.

Whose?

Nora.

He sat up, his body surging with adrenaline and blood pressure high enough to rupture his heart.

He was in his own bed, in his own home. Not there.

He looked at his hands. Slowly pale flesh asserted itself over the ash-blue skin that was trying to emerge, smoothing out the strange ridges and whorls that tried to cover his body in barbaric ornament.  He was himself.

“Wha- what was that?” Loki raised his head slowly, every muscle sobbing in exhaustion and stiffness.  Nora stood at the foot of the bed, the velvet coverlet wrapped about her like a gown, one of the furs over her head, clutched at her throat like a cape, shivering.

 

Nora had bundled herself into sweatpants, two sweaters, and two pairs of socks, and was squeezing a cup of tea in an attempt to warm her fingers, while as close to the fire as she could without actually being in it. Loki sat on the bed, dressed in the weird mix of one of his Agardian tunics and the pants from the tuxedo he had worn days before at the Hive Queen’s New Year’s party.   He was trying to act unconcerned, but his elegant toes clenched and unclenched in counterpoint to his tightening and loosening fists.

“Are you warm yet?” He asked in a too bored tone.  “I would like to get some sleep tonight.  You could use some as well, those dark circles are quite disturbing.”

Nora snorted tea up her nose and spent a minute coughing. Strangely Loki did not approach or hover over her the way he usually did if she showed the slightest physical discomfort.

“Disturbing? Sorry about that.  I _hate_ being disturbed.  You know what the worst is, being woken out of a sound sleep because the nice, warm bed you fell asleep in has turned into an iceberg because your boyfriend is having a nightmare.”

Now Loki snorted. “Boyfriend.  How adorable.  Shall I take you to the prom then?  Go to the Mall for cinnamon rolls and I can buy you some cheap jewelry and a stuffed mammal in an unnatural color?”

“You aren’t going to put me off by being a rude ass. What was that?  I’ve never seen you use magic like that before.”  She gave one long shiver that got her blood moving again and shrugged of the blanket that covered her legs.

He glared at her, willing her to drop it. Instead she got up and walked to him. 

Loki actually backed away from her, scooting across the bed, looking wild-eyed and panicked. His hair was a wiry mess and there was something slightly feral about him at the moment, not in the way he sometimes was when they had sex, but like a spooked and lonely animal in the deepest part of the woods.

“Hey,” she put out a hand towards him, like he was a strange hound, and moved slowly, crawling up on the too-high-for-dignity bed, approaching slowly, “hey, what is this? Since when am I the scary one, huh?”  Nora spoke softly, with a bit of a laugh in her voice.

Loki’s eyes were frighteningly empty, as if he wasn’t seeing her or anything else in the real world for a moment. Then he snatched her hand, and pulled her down, rolling on top of her, “No, treasure, I am the scary one.  Far scarier than you have known me to be.”  He pressed his length against her and caressed her throat with just a touch of too much pressure, all the while staring at her with those same empty, impassive eyes.  Eyes with a strange, fiery flicker of red deep in them. 

It reminded her of something she had seen in Eddie’s eyes once, in another life.

Outside the windows false dawn was paling the sky. The news had been saying for days that it was that today would be the coldest day in recorded Chicago history.  Something called a polar vortex, was going to make its way over the city and plunge them to nearly 20 below. 

Nora had made a joke at the time that Polar Vortex sounded like someone the Avengers should fight.

Loki had not thought it was funny, which made her laugh harder.

Now it didn’t seem funny. The cold was like a prison wall holding her here.

“Loki, let me up.”

He cocked his head and smiled, those same empty eyes making her feel like he was a giant, evil doll. “I mean it.  Let me up.  NOW!”  Nora slipped a hand free, grabbed a handful of his hair, and yanked hard, having learned sort-of-kind-of by accident on Christmas Eve that it was one of the only things she could do that would hurt him at all.

And that he liked it.

His eyes snapped back, eyes coming alive, emerald and anxious.

“Nora, I’m-“ he rolled off of her and stared at the ceiling, rubbing his brow.

“What is going on with you?”

“Apparently you make me too happy.   Too calm.  I cannot defend myself against-“  he stopped, his voice cold again, “It means you should sleep in the guest room until tomorrow or whenever it is warm enough to take you home.”

Nora sat up, furious with him. She knew his timeline was slower than hers, but this was something that shouldn’t be put to the side. “Tell me what you mean, what all of that nightmare and freezing cold business was about. I deserve to know.” 

“It is none of your business Nora. Sleep here if you wish.  I am going out.”

Loki got up, and without a word or a look at her, left.

Nora looked at the door for a long time, wanting to follow him but double and triple guessing herself. Instead she made a call. 

She was surprised to see that the number had been rung from her phone a few weeks before.

 

Loki could not sort his thoughts from his instincts, his bodily appetites from his emotional wants. He needed to run into the burgeoning day, into the hiernal lake and let the ice take him to the depths, to dull the burning that he could feel even now.

Hel take Nora! He knew why the dread was back, the nightmares, the agony.  It was her fault. 

The day before they had been working, Nora creating a list for the London Guildsmen of what they would need for the potion that would drive the gremlins out of their sound system. Apparently they had not been able to turn it on since Christmas Eve, since no matter what they programmed it just played the last three years of Eurovision winners over and over again, but so slowly they sounded like a cheap effect from a student horror film. 

Loki had finished a call and put the phone down, intending to -, he couldn’t remember what he intended, because he found himself staring at Nora. She wasn’t doing anything unusual, just working out the conversion of three and a quarter cups of feathers that had been stroked on a virgin’s thigh into metric. 

“You know,” she said, not looking up, “this should all really be by weight. Like baking.” 

“Really?” He went to her desk and sat against the edge, leaning over her in a perfect arc and pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

“What was that for?” She smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming tea-bright.  Bright for him.  Only for him.  Bright in a way that he had never seen her share with another.

Because I love you, he thought, because for the first time in years there isn’t a small part of me that wishes I had died when I dropped from the Bifrost, or that the Avengers hadn’t shown mercy, or Kurse had not struck true. I am glad to be here, to be anywhere that you are.  I want to live.

But he said, “Because you look so adorable when you are doing math. Like a kitten with a too large toy that it refuses to give up on.”

“That’s because sane people hate math. And I am not very kittenish.”

“Oh, I think I can prove otherwise.”

Loki knew that the nightmare, the pain that still made him look to his skin expecting to see bone through charred skin, was because of that. She had left him defenseless from his own fears.

Instead of running to the lake he took the stairs to the rooftop, which was under his protective spells, and stripped, facing the wind, his body heaving with a need just a step outside of the orgasmic. He felt every strand of his frozen hair where it whipped his skin, scourging it and catching on the coils and parabolas that etched across him.

He had transformed again without meaning to.

 

Hours passed and Loki stood in place, an unmoving sentinel like those in the ruined castle of the Jotunn King. Maybe that was another ‘gift’ of his heritage, the ability to endure nothingness.  It certainly wasn’t inherit in his _personality_.

The sun had risen, and the city was nearly unmoving. Normally by this point Lake Shore Drive would be packed with cars at morning rush, but today he could count the few that drove by.  He could feel the core of the cold coming, the lowest point would arrive soon.  Everyone who could stay home, stay in, was doing so.  Only the desperate, the mad, and the monstrous would venture out without a compelling reason. 

So him.

“Have you been here this whole time?” And Nora, obviously.

“Go back, Nora, it’s too cold for you.” He refused to look at her.  To let her see his face, his eyes.  It was already bad enough that she could see his body.  The hideous color, the swelled size, too large, but not large enough.

“I’m good. I have my new coat.  And boots.  And hat, gloves, scarf.  All of it.  And socks, these socks are very cozy.  Is that what you are trying to hide from me?  You’re blue? Because I think it’s kind of pretty. Or, are those scars?”  Her voice was light, and he could hear her kicking frozen snow.  A thin sound like sand skittering on rock

“No. They are … I’m not sure actually… tribal markings or caste, perhaps?”  He tried to pretend.  To pretend to be Loki, just having one of their normal talks, making light of the strange and disturbing so Nora wouldn’t feel unsafe. 

She _was_ unsafe.  He always made her so.

“So this is, um, how you were born?” She was closer.  He wanted to turn and spray hate at her, say unforgivable things, shove her, but he was still as rock.  He wanted to wait, to hold off seeing the love die in her when he saw what a monster he was.

“I was quite a bit smaller, but yes, this is who I am.”

Nora snorted, and before he could think to move she was leaning against the wall next to him, looking at the lake, too. “Yeah.  Sort of.  You’re sort of a god, and sort of a king, and sort of a prince, a magician, a genius, a female, a male, and now a giant Smurf.  It’s a lot to keep up with.  All of it about the same.”

And she smiled at him, exactly as he had the day before when he kissed her at her desk, with eyes shining tea-bright. Bright just for him.

As if she heard his thoughts, she spoke, “Your eyes,” she said softly, “are a bit much, but beautiful.   Like fire embers in ash.  Or something.  I’m not very poetic.” 

He gasped, backing away, and then made himself sneer, “My, what a perverted creature you truly are, Nora. Do you want a monster?  Is it just because I am bigger _all over_ like this?”  He stopped, stroking himself, horrified to find that he was aroused by her even in this sickening form. 

Nora took off one of her gloves. “You really think that if I was willing to be with Eddie I am going to be put off by this?  This is strange, but it is, what’s that word you like?  Also rather glorious.” Reaching up to brush the crescent on his brow, “Maybe you really _are_ meant to be a king.  You were born with a coronet.”

“Stop, you’ll-“ but her fingers did not turn black with ice burn, and her skin was warmth sinking into him.  “What?” It wasn’t possible.  She should be screaming.  She should be burning with ice.

With her other hand Nora loosened her scarf and opened the neck of her coat. “I told you before, this thing really works.” 

His torc gleamed dully on her bare throat.

Without his will, his hands yanked her coat open.

She was naked except for the clothing she had listed before.

Her nipples were hard pink pearls, and her skin was a slightly reddened and pebbled, but no more so than if she were nude on any day with a cool breeze.

Loki took her.

There was no other word for it, no pretty phrase or romantic speech could change it. His teeth worried one of her breasts, while his hand plunged between her legs, stroking and fucking her, touching her the way he had learned would rouse her the quickest, have her moaning away in his arms.  She was already wet when he touched her and he was hard enough to scream in near pain. 

Nora’s heat was hypnotic and his control was close to gone, “You have one chance to leave me, otherwise I am going to split you open. I can’t care what I do to you today.”

Instead of answering she latched her mouth to his neck, sucking and biting, while her hands ran wildly over his chest, his back, between his legs, over his never before touched by another who meant him pleasure Jotunn skin. He writhed like any virgin being caressed for the first time.  “Nora.  Please!”

“Please, what?” She whispered deep in his ear, her hot tongue tracing the whorls on his throat, his shoulders, driving him farther from himself.

“Never stop.” He groaned, lifting her, spreading her legs around him, and couching himself in her cunt and then snapping his hips forward to impale her, while holding her motionless. 

She bit hard and grabbed two handfuls of his hair for leverage as she tried to move on him. For a moment he thought she was trying escape, but then he realized she was working herself on his cock, grinding down as hard as she could, and then lifting as much as his hard grip on her thighs would allow.

“Do something, I can’t stand it,” she was nearly crying in her need to fuck him, and not trusting himself to thrust too hard into her, he rocked her back and forth on his penis, using his strength to make her his toy.

Nora locked her eyes to his, and when he closed his, she pressed her forehead to his, close enough for their lashes to brush. Her eyes were pure black, and when he felt her hand reach between them to stroke her clit he moaned and dropped her onto one of the icy tables that dotted the rooftop, throwing her legs over his shoulders and fucking into her as deeply into her as he could, stuttering her breath and making her shriek with pain and encouragement.

Her warmth was now heat, but not burning. The heat of sleeping under a bright sun.  The point of a fever where you welcome the strange dreams and uncontrollable tears.  And then her back arched and he felt her gush around him, the liquid freezing as it touched the table, and he angled her up and touched her clit, circling and pressing with his thumb and she came again, screaming his name, her convulsions grabbing him, forcing him, making him come and come and come, making cry him out, Nora’s name mixing with his in the thin air.

 

Loki wrapped Nora in her coat and carried her down the stairs. He liked to carry her, and she was always trying to stop him, but her legs didn’t want to work and when he shifted back into his Asgardian form the warmth piping off his body felt nice.

The torc worked, but Loki’s iciness having been inside of her may have overwhelmed it a bit, though she would never tell him that.

When he set her down on the bed he knelt and unlaced her boots. She stroked his black black black hair, both silky and brittle, and he wanted to flinch away, but Nora was high on fragile air and satisfaction so she stroked and stroked until he finished take off her boot and then she crawled up the bed to the pillows, curling into them.  She was so tired, but she started laughing thinking of what she must look like, wearing only the torc and a pair of white cashmere socks. “I must look ridiculous.” 

God she itched. She started to scratch her dehydrated skin, feeling her muscles growing tighter and beginning to cramp.  They had definitely overloaded the torc.  And there was something else wrong, but at the moment her brain wouldn’t work and she didn’t have the energy to make it, even though she tried.

Something was wrong with Loki. She reached a hand towards him, but he wasn’t looking at her, just at the carpet. 

It was a pretty carpet, but still. “Loki?  Love?” 

Nora had never thought of a pet name for him before, unless you counted ‘ass’ and all of its variations. And ‘love’ was weak, but it was also true.  She couldn’t imagine calling him ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart.’  She couldn’t even imagine her mouth forming the words.

Loki hadn’t said a work since shouting her name, but suddenly he was all business. Abruptly he was dressed in one of Magnus’s more casual outfits rather than his own lounging clothes, and said, “One moment.”

Still itching, Nora drifted off a bit anyway, not having the energy to follow his thoughts let alone his body. She woke with Loki giving her a large glass of water, “Drink this,” and rushing back out of the room, coming back from the bathroom with a container of the body cream she liked.  “Finish that,” he commanded, and while part of her wanted to slam the glass down at that point it just tasted too good.  It was like she could feel the moisture spreading through her poor, dry cells.

When she finished he situated her to his liking on and began to massage the cream into her skin, working her stiff muscles, still not talking.

It was heaven.   His long, graceful fingers and strong hands smoothing and working with just enough pressure to relieve her discomfort with just a touch of clean pain.  The cramping made her wince and then died away under his hands.

“The next time we do that maybe we don’t outside on the coldest day ever.” She murmured, about to fall back asleep.

Something dripped onto her back and ran down her side.

Then again. And again.

Nora rolled over.

Silently, as if he were alone, Loki was crying.

She stroked his cheek, brushing the tears.  

Something in that gesture broke something in him, and he grabbed her about the waist, burying his face against her, and sobbed. “I’m sorry Nora.  I’m sorry for bringing chaos and death into your life.  I am so sorry for almost killing you it makes me ill.  I am sorry for all that my family has asked of you.  But I love you. I love you even though I never believed in it.  I love you so entirely that it has done the opposite of what the poets say, because loving you has driven me sane.   And I am most sorry that I love you because I will never let you go.  The chaos, the madness, the danger, I am keeping you in that world forever because I am a selfish, grasping monster and you are mine forever.” 

Or at least that was what Nora thought he said, because he was crying very hard, and so was she.

He lifted his head, looking at his face, not looking like a god at all, but a tear-streaked, snot-nosed man with red-rimmed eyes and a trembling mouth. He was so beautiful it made Nora’s life ache.

Nora wiggled, with no dignity and less grace, in his grip, so they lay pressed length to length and she could wrap her arms and legs around him, holding him and holding him and holding him.

 

APRIL 21, 2014

Avengers Tower didn’t have an interrogation room, since they weren’t legally able to interrogate anyone, so the prisoner was being held in a supply room.

Steve was in a folding chair, looking at a file with a gentle frown, and Tony was half sitting on a card table, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man suffering either a migraine or an aneurysm, occasionally looking at the prisoner.

“I have to say it, I like your taste. I really do.”  He said, his voice fast and clipped. “Is that velvet?”

“Of course.”

He dropped his hand, “OK, I give. How did you do it?  How did you get through our security?”

“Well, let’s see, I had the help of one of the world’s leading astro-physicists. And her boyfriend.  Two senior citizens, one of whom is a martial arts champion and the other who has escaped from more than one North Korean gulag.  A supernatural industrial spy, a valet with something extra, and the best darn customer service team you ever got helped by.  Oh and lots and lots of money.  Not to mention me. Sorry Tony, your security never stood a chance.”

Captain Roger’s looked up, a sad, slightly confused expression on his handsome face, “But you still failed.”

Nora sighed, shaking her head, “Sorry Captain, but you don’t understand. I didn’t break _in_ to break Loki _out_.  Just I broke in so I could say goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One technical note - the polar vortex day was a real thing in Chicago, where the temp dropped to minus 17 by 8 that morning. The city basically stopped for the day. 
> 
> Thank you all for staying with me on this long, oh so long journey. If you want you can rejoin Loki, Nora, and me, for the final story in their saga, The Road to Hel is Paved with Misunderstandings. Hopefully coming soon.
> 
> Special love to Caffiend and Hurricanerin, the most wonderful cheerleaders and friends any writer ever had. You are my muses.


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